Archive of Stray Thoughts
by Aya Diefair
Summary: Stories that have gone astray. Rated K-T. Mixed pairings/characters/situations. Summaries/genres/ratings/pairings listed. Thanks for reading.
1. Someone Like You (Draco-Blaise)

**Author's Note:** Some stories you see in this collection will be removed at a future date due to they being apart of a bigger project I am working on. They are simply posted here for convenience for my competitions that I didn't want to have a stand-alone story for them muddling up my page. Thank you for understanding.

* * *

 **Summary:** Sometimes love is just not meant to be. AU; Post-Hogwarts.

 **Rated:** T

 **Genre:** Angst, Hurt/Comfort

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 **Someone Like You**

Autumn leaves fluttered through the air around Draco Malfoy out in the Spanish countryside. Off in the distance a small wedding took place. He watched as the happy couple exchanged vows and sealed their fates with a kiss, the blond felt a pang in his chest at the sight.

Even from afar he could see Blaise Zabini dressed in a sharp black suit that contrasted well with his milk chocolate skin and white tie. His bride, who glowed in white beside him, was led down the aisle as family and friends clapped and threw petals above their heads. As the guests started to disperse to follow the couple, Draco could not help but take a few steps closer in hopes to catch his eye.

It worked.

Appearing like an ink stain in a harvest themed painting, Blaise eyed the man in the distance and let out a steady breath in recognizing the uninvited guest. Placing a kiss on the dusty pink cheek of Mrs. Zabini, he whispered quietly in an ear.

"Give me a minute?"

The witch looked in the direction of Draco for only a moment, nodding an agreement before they parted ways. Blaise watched as she met up with her family and gave a quick explanation before they made way to the nearby barn where the reception was to be held.

Approaching the blond, he raised a dark brow when Draco turned to walk away. The brief head jerk quietly asked for him to follow. When the pair found themselves on the other side of the small hill, out of the line of sight to curious eyes, did the wizard turn to address the newlywed.

"Congratulations to you and yours," Draco offered, grey eyes resting on Blaise.

"Thank you."

The cool breeze billowed between the two wizards. Before the silence got awkward, the blond spoke while getting comfortable on the soft, sloped, grassy earth.

"Sit with me?"

Blaise huffed, making a notion to check his watch. "Look, I don't have much time -"

"Just for a moment." Draco all but begged.

Rolling his eyes, he obliged. Folding dark fingers together to rest over his knees, he avoided the burning grey eyes that stared at him. Blaise instead focused on the scenery in front of him. Slow, fluffy clouds lazily drifted across the evening sky.

"You were never going to tell me, were you?" the blood scolded.

"It didn't seem relevant."

Draco scoffed, offended.

"I wasn't expecting to have you wander over here like some lost puppy," Blaise continued. "This was supposed to remain—"

"A secret?"

Draco picked up a beautiful red leaf from the grass, twirling it by the stem and releasing it. The bright red leaf flapped around the pair like a butterfly, landing delicately on the shoulder of the newlywed.

"Who is supposed to be hidden? Me or her? Or both?"

The dark-skinned wizard caught a pale hand in his own, pulling it to his lips where he kissed the top. A thumb drew light patterns on the blond's palm. The movement of his arm caused the leaf to fall.

"Please be understanding. You'd have done the same," Blaise attempted to explain with as few words as possible. "It's custom."

Saddened grey eyes continued to bore into the wizard. A rare sight to see such raw emotion from a Malfoy that an ache formed in his chest. Draco pulled his hand away, the tingle where it was kissed dissipated.

"So this is it, then?" he asked, hurt in his tone. "You live up to our pureblood standards while I become just an old friend to you."

"It doesn't have to be that way."

"But you'll be staying here in Spain with her. I'll be back in Britain."

"I'll be in Britain regularly on business, we can -"

The look in Draco's eyes changed from hurt to indifferent, reading the dark eyes that looked back. He was never intending to reveal his marriage to the Spanish girl, he was going to continue on with both relationships like a second nature. It was clear he did not stop to think about the feelings of either involved if this secret was discovered. Luckily the blond unveiled it before it was too late.

"Do you love her?" A simple question that would tilt the scales.

"Draco…"

"Do you?"

After a long second Blaise breathed. "Yes."

Draco stood up then, dusting off his trousers. "Then this is it, then."

He took a couple steps forward, stopped by Blaise grabbing his arm. "We can make this work."

The blond shook his head. "It will be unfair to her… and to me, to continue with this. Whatever this was."

Blaise pulled Draco into him; placing a gentle kiss on those soft, thin lips. Despite his best efforts to resist, grey eyes closed and savored the bittersweet moment. Hand cradled a pointed chin, deepening the kiss. It yearned for forgiveness, to apologize, to remember. Draco pulled away after several blissful seconds, allowing Blaise to see the fading hope in his eyes; the warmth from the kiss cooled.

"Please stay, Draco." Pleading.

"Nevermind, Blaise." A shake of his head. "I'll find someone like you did."

The blond stepped back, tearing their hands apart. Silver eyes glistened as a silent wish to not be forgotten as he disapparated with the wind. Leaves on the ground were disturbed, kicked up by magic. One bright red one landed on a shoulder of the outstretched arm that reached for the lover he never had a chance to be free with.

* * *

 **Written for the Crayola Color Challenge from the HPFFC Forum**

 **Written for the Slash Challenge from the HPFFC Forum**

 **Prompts:** Secret, Hope, Clouds, Grey, Lost

 **Color Prompt:** Bittersweet

 **Pairing:** Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 919

 _Inspired by Someone Like You by Adele._


	2. Shooting Stars (Draco-Hermione)

**Summary:** During an Astronomy assignment, Draco yearns to confess his feelings to the brightest witch of their age, but stargazing will have to do. AU; 8th Year Hogwarts.

 **Rated:** K

 **Genre:** Angst, Hurt/Comfort

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 **Shooting Stars**

The school grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had been blanketed with the midnight blue starry sky for a couple of hours now and it was time for the first Astronomy lesson of the year.

Despite his namesake, Draco Malfoy loathed this class. It was just _too_ easy; having at least ten generations of the Ancient House of Black family name origins drilled into his skull from a young age played a large part of this. The barely contained panic he felt crawl throughout his body when he walked up the steep, winding stairs to attend the class was not pleasant, either.

The blond kept to himself, finishing his chart with an agonizing amount of time left. Leaning against one of the metal railings, Draco gazed at the galaxies above. Seeing a shooting star, a silent wish was made.

The hand that nudged at his arm had the blond all but jump out of his skin. Turning around to send a few choice words at the incompetent classmate, he choked back a nasty comment when he saw a mass of frizzy, brown hair. Wish answered.

Hermione Granger looked apologetic for startling him. Grey eyes wandered to the other students before looking back at her. Heart racing at the reason she was there.

"Professor Sinistra offered extra credit if we could find the student who had the chart that connected with another's," she explained. "Do you mind if I take a look at yours?"

Not sure how to respond, Draco simply shrugged, laying his out on the ground as she did the same. Folding his arms over his chest, he skimmed over hers to distract himself. Draco admired her scrutinizing the charts, wondering if he should finally tell her something he had held onto for a long time. Noticing a mistake, he kneeled down beside the brightest witch of their age.

"You named these two stars wrong," Draco pointed out, keeping poised. "Eltanin is this one, and Edasich is here."

Hermione glanced over while he explained, shaking her head in disagreement. "No, I'm pretty sure they're correct."

"I think I'd know the names and order of the stars from where my name came from," Draco retorted; sounding sharper than intend.

The witch sent a look his way before peering at his star chart. He noticed a simple ring perched on the hand she traced with and felt a heaviness in his chest and a lump in his throat. It was too late.

"Looks like ours match, I got the tail," Draco noted, trailing a finger down the tail of the dragon constellation on his chart, then down hers. "And here's the head."

She placed a finger over Ursa Minor on her chart, carefully matching part of it on the blond's chart. A quiet laugh escaped her, slightly easing the ache in his chest. She pulled her wand from her pocket to quickly change the names around.

"Quite the coincidence, isn't it?" Hermione observed, looking to Draco.

He met her gaze, a smirk crept over his mouth. "It is. I had honors to correct the brightest witch of our age."

The witch rolled her eyes, but the smile that lit up her honey brown eyes said she found the jab funny. "Don't get used to it."

Looking to the sky once more, the blond scanned the heavens. "It's a beautiful sight, isn't it?"

Hermione looked in time to see a shooting star fly by; she wondered if Draco saw it as well. "Yes, it is a breathtaking view."

* * *

 **Written for the QLFC Forum Bonus Round - The Daily Prophet**

 **Written for the Crayola Color Challenge from the HPFFC Forum**

 **Color Prompt:** Midnight Blue

 **Song Prompt:** Single Ladies - Beyonce

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 588


	3. A Tempting End (Ron-Hermione)

**Judge's Pick**

 **The BIG Bonus Round**

 **The Houses Competition**

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 **Written for The BIG Bonus Round of The Houses Competitions**

 **House** : Hufflepuff  
 **Category** : BIG Bonus Round  
 **Chapter** : 5  
 **Theme:** Earth (Plants, Symbolism, Colors)  
 **Prompts** : A Very Important Meeting [event]  
 **Word Count** : 1,110

 **Beta(s):** Magi Silverwolf, spittingllama7856

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 **Note:** This fic is compiled and linked to four other chapter fics written by fellow Hufflepuffs, but they all were designed to be stand-alone fics. Search for them using the info below!

 **Disclaimer:** May contain content that some readers may find offensive. Verbal/Emotional Abuse.

 **Chapter 1:** _A Tempting Lie_ By Magi Silverwolf

 **Chapter 2:** _A Tempting Offer_ By Dark Angel Of Sorrow Returns

 **Chapter 3:** _A Tempting Stay_ By VanillaAsh

 **Chapter 4:** _A Tempting Pain_ By spittingllama7856

* * *

 **Title:** A Tempting End

 **Summary:** After a temporary - but needed - separation, Hermione decides to reconcile with Ron; but under one vital condition. Post-Epilogue.

 **Rated T:** Language

 **Genre:** Family, Drama

 **Pairing:** Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley

 **Additional Characters:** Harry Potter

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 **A Tempting End**

Dusk blanketed the small wizard community in the fading sunset glow. Hidden under Harry Potter's invisibility cloak, Hermione Granger peered through the window of her own home. Her husband paced across the living room, arms flailing on occasion when his voice raised while he spoke.

No one else seemed to be present, yet he continued to march around the room talking. The ginger paused in front of the fireplace, picking up one of the framed photos from it that had a small note wedged in the corner from what she could see. The flutter of leaves in the wind caught on the invisible threads, and the witch discreetly shrugged them off.

Carrying the family photo over to the couch, not taking his eyes off it, Ron Weasley collapsed onto the sofa. He appeared to be crying now, wiping his face with the back of his hand when Harry emerged from the kitchen. He held two beverages served in mugs; the steamy wisps emitting from them had Hermione assume it was tea. The bespectacled wizard placed both on the coffee table to sit beside his best friend, he placed a comforting arm around his shoulders.

Just over a week had passed since she disappeared with the kids, leaving only that note Ron now held in his hand behind. The evidence of the time lapsed sat on the windowsill where a few plants begun to droop and wilt from neglect. Somehow the witch didn't believe Harry's letters that the ginger was this tore up about it, but witnessing the distress in person sent a sharp pang through her chest. Hermione needed to see, to know, that he really did care about his family, about her, and doing what she did had made that happen.

It was time to mend the damage that had been done.

Pulling an envelope from her pocket, Hermione brushed her fingers over her cursive that simply said _Ron_ on the outside, with an address, a date with a time, and four simple words inscribed within:

 _We need to talk._

Quietly moving up the steps, her feet crushed the fallen leaves that rested there. Opening the letter drop, Hermione carefully pushed the parchment through it. The soft sound of it hitting the floor satisfied her enough to close the flap. Pulling her tan overcoat tighter around herself and fiddling with the cloak, she stepped back down the stairs. Giving her home another glance, Hermione then proceeded to walk down the pavement. Looking back, she made sure she was far enough away from the house so the sound of her Disapparating wasn't heard.

 **.oOo.**

Ron sat anxiously in the Muggle diner booth that Hermione said to meet her at. He looked to the door every time he heard the chime that signaled someone entered, hoping that each customer was his wife coming in. She was already five minutes late. It was unlike her to be late for anything. This worried the ginger, and in the very back of his mind, he even thought it was just a cruel joke she was playing.

The chime was heard again, and it was still not her. The waitress came up to his table for a third time.

"You ordering anything?"

"More water, please?"

He could tell that she was getting irritated with him, watching her as she walked off with a huff. Ron was almost ready to get up and leave when that daunting chime was heard again. This time he didn't look up. Only when someone approached the table and sat down across from him did he have the courage to meet the familiar honey brown eyes.

"You came," he said with a sigh of relief.

Hermione observed the wizard's glassy eyes and the strength it took for him to not break down at the sight of her. Keeping her own composure, the witch exhaled a steady breath of her own. The waitress arrived with a second glass of water and menu.

"I'll have an oolong tea and an order of honey teacakes, please." She handed the menu back before straightening her posture.

The witch settled her gaze back on her husband.

"Hermione, I–" Ron paused, swallowing hard, "I'm so bloody sorry. I shouldn't have lashed out the way I did, said the things I said. I am a right git for… for everything."

He trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. He really was trying to keep it together, but was slowly bursting at the seams. Before he could continue, Hermione held up her hand to stop him.

"I accept your apology," she replied; her throat dry.

His look of relief had her feeling more at ease with her choice of words, but the wizard was not out of the woods yet. Forgiveness had to be earned, and that was going to be a long road ahead of them. Her tea and cakes came in that moment, but they were quickly alone again. Taking a sip, it relieved her parched throat.

"Thank Merlin," he uttered, wiping at his forehead, "Hermione… I never wanted to hurt you like that. I truly thought that you can–"

She stopped him again with the raise of her hand, and Ron halted the next wave of apologies he had lined up. "However, in order for us to really fix this, fix our family, we _will_ be attending counseling. This is not negotiable. Do you agree?"

This was what would make or break them. Hermione needed to know if he was willing to be in it for the long haul, for their sake, for their children's sake. This important meeting between them was the last essential key that would seal their fates, no matter which way the pendulum swung.

The witch continued before Ron had a chance to fully respond. "I want you to really think about it before just saying _'Yes.'_ Understand? So take your time."

Hoping that the stern tone she used told him without words it was his last chance. The life that sparked in Ron's eyes gave her hope that he was going to make the right decision, and mean it. She was apprehensive on if he was going to be willing to accept the positive change that was needed, to acknowledge his flaws, and to take those crucial steps to keep them from ruling his emotions. It was essential in order for them to properly heal.

"Thank you, Hermione," he reached for her hand across the table and gently grasped it. She gave his hand a light squeeze to reassure him.

"Could I… Could I see our children… please?"

A smile twitched at her lips, "Of course."


	4. You Can't be Sirius? (Draco)

**Summary:** Draco analyzes his relation to the muggle mass murderer; Sirius Black. Set in 1993/1994 School Year.

 **Rated T:** Language

 **Genre:** Drama, Family

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 **You Can't be Sirius?**

 _31st of October, 1993_

The Halloween Feast was coming to a close. Draco Malfoy departed the Great Hall early and headed for the library to find some peace and quiet to finish an essay before curfew. Unfortunately for the blond, a quiet evening was not in store for him. As soon as he pulled open the library doors, Madam Irma Pince announced to the few students scattered about to return to the Great Hall immediately.

A pair of Gryffindor girls breezed through the door Draco still held open, and before any other peers took advantage of the false courtesy, he released the handle and followed the nauseating colors of gold and red, not intending to keep pace with the two.

"It's about Sirius Black, I bet," the black-haired girl stated. "He has it in for Harry Potter."

Draco couldn't help but overhear the gossip, and rolled his eyes at the mention of his nemesis. _Everything_ was about bloody Saint Potter.

"But why would he want to attack Potter? If he was a Gryffindor, why can't he just try and do in one of the Slytherins instead?" the brunette asked her friend.

"Lavender, he _murdered_ twelve Muggles! He was a follower of You-Know-Who. Gryffindors can go bad, too," the raven-haired girl half-whispered. "Besides, why would he escape from Azkaban to snuff out a potential new recruit for–"

The girl abruptly stopped speaking when Draco quickly brushed past them; he couldn't handle the drama any longer. The pair watched him carefully, slowing their pace to avoid the boy's presence. As he turned the corner, he heard them resume the conversation as if he'd never interrupted them.

Draco sought out the Slytherins that huddled in the far corner of the now cleared Great Hall. As he approached, he looked to Theodore Nott for an explanation.

"What's going on now?" the blond demanded.

"Sirius Black attempted to break into the Gryffindor Common Room. Slashed up the portrait good in the process," Theo recited, already bored with the incident that had unfolded. "Naturally, the castle is in an uproar, so all the students were ordered to come here while they search the grounds."

"Oi, Malfoy, isn't he a relative of yours?" Crabbe asked a little too loudly for Draco's taste.

He gave the stocky boy a hard smack on the arm. Sometimes the git was too smart at the dumbest of times. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Of course the blond was well versed in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black family tree; his own mother was a part of that bloodline. Draco knew of a few ancestors that bore the name Sirius Black, but when it came to his mother's cousin –and middle sister– he knew next to nothing about them. All that mattered was that they both were blood traitors, so no further exploring of them was required.

"Don't get to worked up over it, mate. You might cause a scene," Theo joked, a smirk playing his lips.

It was met with a stern glare from the blond. Draco scanned the area around him to make sure their conversation wasn't overheard before he hissed out threateningly, "Quit bringing it up!"

Since the relation was mentioned, Draco couldn't help but think about their very loose connection. If Sirius was a blood traitor, why would he join the Dark Lord and slaughter Muggles?

Maybe the Black bloodline had some kind of psyche problem; knowing so much about his aunt Bellatrix would normally be enough proof for him. Unfortunately it still didn't add up; his mother was far from insane, she was quite the opposite actually. _He_ wasn't insane, so that evidence was flawed.

The conversation between the girls came back to him and Draco started to feel a little worried; a deranged relative of his was roaming the castle, clearly confused about where his loyalty lay. What if Sirius learned he was Narcissa's son and wanted a go at him, too?

Draco paled at the thought, quickly climbing into the overly fluffy sleeping bag the Headmaster produced for everyone to sleep in. Its cushiony walls didn't offer him the comfort he sought, and he wished he could go back to the Slytherin Common Room where he would feel much safer behind the thick stone walls.

* * *

 **Written for the QLFC Forum Bonus Round - The Daily Prophet**

 **Written for the Crayola Color Challenge from the HPFFC Forum**

 **Team:** Wigtown Wanderers  
 **Position:** Chaser 2

 **Prompt:** Oct. 31st, 1993 - Sirius Black sneaks into Hogwarts. (500-1000 words)

 **Optional Prompt(s):**

(word) escape

(dialogue) "If he was a Gryffindor, why can't he just try and do in one of the Slytherins instead?"

(word) explore

 **Color Prompt:** 16\. Lavender

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 714

 **Beta(s):** DinoDina, spittingllama7856


	5. Kneazles, Riddles, & Girls Oh My! (Ron)

**Written for QLFC Season 5, Final Round 2**

 **Written for the Crayola Color Challenge from the HPFFC Forum**

 **Team:** Wigtown Wanderers

 **Position:** Chaser 2

 **Position Prompt:** R: Ron Weasley, Ravenclaw Tower, Rat, Rope

 **Additional Prompts:**

 **5.** (dialogue) "What are you doing here?"

 **13.** (phrase) under the bed

 **14.** (time) night

 **Color Prompt:** Aquamarine

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 1,786

 **Beta(s):** Magi Silverwolf, Trish, Blue Rose (thank yoooou!)

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 **Title:** Kneazles, Riddles, and Girls. Oh My!

 **Summary:** When a chase breaks out between cat and rat, their owners will say anything to protect their pets. Alternate Universe. 1993/1994 Hogwarts School Year.

 **Rated T:** Language

 **Genre:** Humor, Drama

 **Featured Character(s):** Ron Weasley, Scabbers, Crookshanks, Luna Lovegood (unnamed), Hermione Granger (unnamed)

* * *

 **Kneazles, Riddles, and Girls. Oh My!**

Curfew was creeping up on the students who had yet to return to their dormitories. Some were finishing assignments in the quiet nooks of the library, others consulted teachers with questions, and a few slinked about the castle to find the next best hookup spot other than a cramped broom closet.

Ron Weasley did none of these things: instead he ran about the castle chasing after a fluffy, orange cat that had suddenly appeared during the beginning of the school year. That vile creature stalked after his pet rat, Scabbers, tirelessly and he was sick of it.

He was surprised the cat hadn't given the old rat a heart attack yet given the constant harassment he now constantly endured. Ron has had to rescue him from several near death situations already and term only started a month ago. He needed to find the cat's owner and give that person a few choice words over the entire predicament.

Losing sight of the bushy-tailed terror, Ron took in his surroundings to see where he had wound up. His breathing was labored and a stitch was forming in his side from this mad chase. He was near the end of a long hall by a tight, winding staircase. Knowing he'd see the two animals run back in the other direction had they don so, he quietly crept toward the staircase, wand firmly in hand.

"Scabbers?" Ron whispered into the shadows.

A strange silence settled in the space, but then a sudden burst of squeaks and hisses erupted from the darkness. In a blur, Ron saw the rat and cat bound up the stairs, and he breathlessly went after them.

There were a couple Ravenclaws talking about an assignment as they ascended to the top of the stairs, their voices echoed down the turret where their Common Room resided. Ron could barely see through the wrought iron steps that Scabbers and the cat carelessly ran underfoot to sneak in after the students answered something.

"Ah! It's that blasted half breed again," one of them complained while disappearing behind the large door.

Ron tried picking up the pace in an attempt to get in before the door closed, but it was too late. He slammed his body against it in frustration when he realized there was no handle to open it.

"Hey! I need in! My pet is in there," he shouted, his cries echoing down through the Ravenclaw Tower.

An eagle knocker that was perched in the center of the door came to life. Its bronze eyes seemed to glint at the ginger, scrutinizing his appearance as if it knew he was no Ravenclaw. Ron squinted up at it, wondering if it controlled the door.

"Could you let me in?" he asked.

"I have a mouth but cannot eat. I have a bed but do not sleep. I have a bank but no currency it keeps. What am I?" The eagle went still as soon as it finished and waited for a response.

"Huh? I need to get my rat back before it becomes that stupid feline's dinner!" Ron was starting to become agitated.

The eagle shook its head. "That's incorrect.

"I have a mouth but cannot eat. I have a bed but do not sleep. I have a bank but no currency it keeps. What am I?"

The knocker repeated, going still once more. Ron released a very annoyed huff, throwing his arms up in defeat.

Crouching down next to the door, Ron ran his hands through his hair. He was clearly distressed, unsure about the fate of Scabbers at this point. He could only wait and hope another Ravenclaw would show up to let him in.

It felt like hours before a soft, wispy voice was heard singing, footsteps skipped up the iron stairs to the made up song. A blond-haired girl reached the top of the stairs, her wide aquamarine eyes observed the crumpled-up wizard beside the door.

"Oh, hello. Are you unable to guess the riddle?" she asked curiously.

Ron looked up to meet the Ravenclaw's eyes. Getting to his feet with relief, he now towered over the girl.

"Thank Merlin! I need in your common room! My pet rat ran in there before I could get to him. Can you help?" He spoke very quickly, needing to stress the urgency of his situation.

The girl listened in silence to his reason for being there. She gave him a warm smile when he finished. "Of course. I would be upset too if I lost my pet."

"I didn't lose him. He-" Ron was interrupted by the eagle knocker.

"I have a mouth but cannot eat. I have a bed but do not sleep. I have a bank but no currency it keeps. What am I?"

"Why does it keep saying that?" he demanded, annoyed at hearing the riddle for a third time.

"It's a riddle. We are only permitted to enter if we answer it correctly. It's our version of your Gryffindor passwords." The girl looked to the eagle and asked for it to repeat the code.

Ron watched with complete confusion on his face as the girl thought a moment before her eyes lit up, an answer forming on her tongue.

"A river," she answered in a song-like manner.

The eagle nodded once before taking its original pose and the door swung open, revealing Ravenclaw's elegant common room.

"Thank you!" Ron said in haste before bolting through the door, leaving the strange girl behind.

He scanned the common area of Ravenclaw Tower for any signs of that bushy, ginger tail to no avail. The place was virtually deserted aside from the blonde girl who stood beside him.

"If I were a rat, I'd hide in the nooks and crannies by the bookshelf." She pointed in the direction where an oversized bookshelf rested perfectly against the curved wall.

"I am off to bed now. Good luck in your search." The girl vanished up another flight of stairs, leaving Ron alone.

He quickly set to searching. From looking under the furniture and end tables to behind some desks and in drawers. Despite all this, Ron found no signs of either creature in the room. Judging from how dark it was outside already - the large curved windows reflected this - he was breaking curfew at this point and was going to be in some serious trouble if he was caught.

The thought of his pet rat not making it through the night made him sick to his stomach. He didn't care what the punishment would be as long as he could save Scabbers. Pulling a thin piece of rope from his pocket, Ron tied some Swiss cheese he saved from lunch to the end to use as bait and tossed it as far back as he could under the large bookshelf.

"Scabbers? Are you under there?"

Ravenclaw Tower was soon shrouded in darkness, the rays of moonlight hidden behind puffy clouds. It made it difficult for him to see much of anything anymore. The eerie quiet was unnerving, causing the ginger to think that his rat may have taken refuge in the dorms. The little critter did like hiding under the bed in the Burrow and in the dorms. However, sneaking into the rooms would seem a bit creepy, and a one way ticket to being caught by a Prefect or Head of House. After several long seconds, Ron pulled the rope from underneath the bookshelf with no luck. He got to his feet when he heard a ruckus from the stairs nearby.

"Scabb-"

The rat suddenly leapt from the step right for Ron. Landing in his hair, Scabbers frantically scurried onto his owner's shoulders and wedged his frail body into the collar of Ron's shirt. The orange feline was not far behind, and before Ron could comprehend what was going on, the cat jumped him. He stumbled back and toppled over an armchair while fighting the wretched beast off him.

"Gerroff, you pile of mangey fluff!" He struggled through the hisses and claws stricking at him.

"What are you doing here? Why are you attacking my cat?" A haughty voice called from the stairwell.

The girl quickly pulled the cat off Ron, cuddling the creature in her arms. "Are you alright, Crookshanks?"

"Me attacking _it?"_ Ron snapped, pushing himself off the armchair.

He rubbed the back of his hand on his robes where a fresh scratch started to welt. "That _thing_ jumped me and nearly killed my rat!" He jabbed a finger at Crookshanks.

Scabbers squeaked in terror, burrowing deeper into Ron's shirt. He cringed at the scratches on his neck and shoulder but was glad to have his pet back safe and seemingly unscathed with him.

"Why was your rat even up here? You're a pretty irresponsible pet owner allowing it to wander so far from your dorm," she scolded, clutching the growling ball of ginger closer.

Ron was quickly growing irritated with this bushy-haired witch, especially with how dismissive she was being with the incident between their pets.

" _I'm_ irresponsible? It's _your_ stupid cat's fault! You need to contain that vile thing and keep it out of _my_ dorm! It chases my rat all over the bloody castle every chance it gets!" He was quickly becoming very angry with this girl.

She let out a huff, knowing he was in the right as well. "Crookshanks is simply doing what any cat would do with rodents. You can't blame him following his instincts."

Ron threw his arms up in defeat, finding the argument going nowhere. He decided to go for the exit. "Just keep that monster away from Gryffindor's Common Room!"

"Fine! And you keep better track of your rat!" She turned and stomped back up the stairs.

Ron threw open the exit and trekked down the tight staircase, grumbling under his breath about the insufferable girl who owned the ginger feline. When he finally got to the bottom of the stairs, he dug Scabbers out of his shirt and examined him under the torchlight.

"You okay, Scabs?" he whispered. "I have something tasty for ya."

He pulled out the wadded up piece of rope and picked the bits of cheese off it. "Sorry it's all gross, but I hope you will like it anyway. It's your favorite: Swiss."

Scabbers' nose twitched in the air before his little paw reached out to accept the treat. The rat eagerly nibbled away at it as Ron perched him on his shoulder.

"Let's get back to our room. I made you a new nest under the bed so you're safer from that blasted cat."

The rat squeaked his approval, he was very happy to have found this owner years ago.


	6. The Escape (Newt)

**Summary:** How did Newt recapture the Billywigs that escaped from his suitcase? Fantastic Beasts Era.

 **Rated K:** Cute lil Bug Mating Calls Alert

 **Genre:** Adventure, General

* * *

 **The Escape**

Newt Scamander frantically read through the log of magical creatures stowed in the suitcase while rummaging through it. Calculations ran through his mind as he scanned over the creatures still present before checking them off and moving into a different zone.

A deep sigh escaped him as he puzzled over what had exactly got out; an Erumpent, Demiguise, Murtlap, Occamy, that blasted Niffler, and lastly, two Billywigs. Finding them all was going to be a challenge, catching them would be a tad difficult at worst. Though he was confident in tracking his creatures down in the foreign environment they were set loose in, the one he dreaded the most in catching were the Billywigs.

They were not the biggest of insects he had in his possession; being about the size of a hummingbird, and their unfortunate speed and knack for evasiveness will prove to be a challenge. Even the Demiguise, something that could completely disappear from sight, didn't give him as much worry to find as these little bugs did.

Despite Newt's many sightings of the little sapphire blue bugs zooming by him, he was not prepared, or even quick enough to try to grab it by the base of the stinger to subdue it. His obligatory companion nagged him to hunt down the more mischievous creature instead. She soon learned what else slipped out of the case.

Collecting the Occamy was a success, and to add to Newt's excitement, he spotted the pair of Billywigs buzzing around the rafters. The gleam of their wings caught the moonlight through the cracks in the ceiling, and the two soon landed on top of an old wooden crate nearby. They tilted their heads in unison and twitched their wings up and outward in an odd pattern. Newt immediately identified what was going on; they were performing a mating dance.

He knew the Billywigs were virtually harmless, but it simply would not do if the native Australian bug quickly became a pest in America. He needed to catch them.

Placing the Occamy and Demiguise back where they belonged inside their makeshift home, Newt quickly set to work in making a nectar trap for the Billywigs. Extracting some of the essence from an one-sided bottlebrush flower, the makeshift trap was completed.

Resurfacing into the dusty attic, Newt's gaze went right back to the two bugs nearby. Carefully moving toward them, he placed the shoddy bottle trap in front of him. Giving it a shake to encourage the flowers' scent to be released, he crouched down and waited.

The Billywigs took interest immediately, and both buzzed down over the large jar and hovered a moment as if suspicious. It didn't take long for the two to quickly give into the sweet smell of their favourite meal, and in an instant, Newt clamped a lid over them and let out a pleased sigh.

They were all caught.

* * *

 **Written for Round 3, Year 2 of The Houses Competitions**

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Category:** Drabble (500 Words)

 **Prompt(s):** [Creature] Billywig

 **Word count:** (Per Google Docs) 481

 **Beta(s):** Zoe, Am


	7. My Sweet Prince (Narcissa, Draco)

**Summary:** How can one cope without the euphoric emptiness that can take away the pain from loss? Post-Hogwarts. First Person; Muggle Alternate Universe.

 **Rated T:** Mentions of Death, Mourning, Drug Abuse

 **Genre:** Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy

 **Notes:** Heavily inspired by the song of the same name _My Sweet Prince_ by Placebo.

 ***** First person; Narcissa Malfoy

 ***** Her warped mind chooses to use pet names when referring to Draco in the beginning.

 ***** Sense of time is purposely blurred. A year passes from the first paragraph to the end paragraph.

* * *

 **My Sweet Prince**

This disaster was never meant to happen. The obituary of my late husband laid beside me. I stared at the ceiling in a near-comatose state while a hand caressed the paper image of him. My body felt cool, doused in a light haze of sweat from anticipation. A stinging bite flooded through my veins from a fresh hit, the needle recklessly discarded nearby. I soon felt myself fade into the numbing, euphoric state that swept all the pain and suffering away.

My precious Dragon appeared at some point beside me. He appeared distressed and wanted to help me stop hurting myself. I lifted a bony hand to touch the smooth skin on his cheek, wishing to offer comfort and tell him I am okay, but my muttering fell on deaf ears. He pulled a sheet over me to offer some modesty, but I didn't care. I simply stared at the sweet, gentle prince that I could still call mine and wished he would cuddle beside me like he had done so many years before.

My mind lapsed into a haze, and soon the room became blinding with light. Rhythmic beeping pierced at my hearing and I flinched, gritting my teeth with agitation. A heaviness like lead filled my head, an IV was imbedded in my arm. I hated the state I was in. I needed more. My sweet prince was at my side once my alertness was noticed. He claimed to have brought someone to fix me properly, but I never asked to be fixed. I just want to stop feeling the ache.

The withdrawal was worse than the pain and the hurt. I screamed profanities and lashed out at my prince; he was the giver and now he was the taker. I hated him for it. I missed him. I cried so much, his name a curse on my lips as the ache throbbed with each beat of my heart. Why did he have to die such a tragic death and leave us so alone? I loved the fool too much, and now that love was tearing us apart.

This disaster slowly subsided. My body felt empty, my body felt numb. I curled up on the bed waiting, but death never came. Soon a hand was held before me, and my precious Draco looked upon me with hurting eyes. It crushed me further to know my coping caused him a different suffering, and I was ashamed to hear him call me Mother. I took his hand with tears in my eyes and I hugged him as close as he could be to me. My body shook from a heavy, sorrowful sob in apology. I knew that the pain would always remain, but we still had each other.

* * *

 **Written for the 28 Days of Romance in February Challenge**

 **Written for Round 4, Year 2 of The Houses Competitions**

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Category:** Drabble (500 Words)

 **Prompt(s):** 10\. [Word] Disaster

 **28 Days of Romance:** Day 8 - Mourning Loss of a Spouse.

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 458

 **Beta(s):** Pix, Angel


	8. Tadpoles in Ponds

**Chapter 21**

Draco appeared on the bridge at the park to a curious scene. Iris was bending down close to the ponds surface, deeply interested in whatever was swimming around in there. What gave him pause was that she was standing in the pond up to almost her knees. She seemed to be wearing another strange pair of trousers, but instead of those worn jeans she seemed to favor, they looked to be of a thiner material, and were pulled up above her knees to avoid getting them wet.

He slowly approached, not wanting to disturb whatever she was doing in that putrid water. Draco wondered if she knew just how gross pond water can get and what could live in them. A vague memory of catching a leech out of this very pond in his youth flashed across his memory befere he pushed it aside.

Taking the spot he favored on the bench nearby, Draco watched Iris continue to nearly kiss the water before she slowly turned some and waded toward the ponds edge, never taking her eyes off the water.

Several minutes ticked on by before Iris finally stood to her full height and moved to a clearing where the ground naturally dipped into the pond. She reached for a towel as she pulled her muddied feet from the water and onto the grass.

This is when she finally noticed him. "Oh, hello."

Draco nodded a reply, raising a brow at her while she blotted her legs dry but left the mud between her toes. "What were you doing?"

"Watching the tadpoles They've finally hatched," Iris replied, smiling lightly as she glanced back into the water. "Want to see them?"

"You've got a leech," Draco said, gesturing to her right calf. "Near your knee."

"Ah."

Iris reached around and grabbed the creature as close to her skin as possible before pulling. Thankfully the bugger hadn't latched yet and she was able to ease it off quickly.

"Need it for potions?"

He gave a shrug, finding the question slightly off-putting. When he didn't reply, Iris tossed it back into the pond. "Another day, then."

She sat down beside him where her book bag resided and offered Draco a small smile. "Today is a lovely day, isn't it?"

"Mmm," he hummed, unable to pull his gaze from her as she reached for her art things. "You remind me of someone I know from school. It's eerie. I wouldn't be remotely surprised if you're related to her, even."

"That's a stretch," Iris said. "What makes you think that?"

"Her name is Lovegood, sound familiar?"

She simply shook her head.

"Luna?"

"No, sorry."

"Shame," Draco said, smirking. "You two could be twins."


	9. Bad Blood (Alecto)

**Summary** : Teaching the young students of Hogwarts about Muggles was exactly the position Alecto Carrow was eager to teach. 1997/1998 School Year.

 **Genre:** General

 **Rated T:** Descriptions of torture, murder, and persecution of the accused mentioned. Wizard alternative slurs used.

* * *

 **Bad Blood**

"Muggles are nothing but filth staining this Earth," Alecto Carrow hissed out to the impressionable young minds before her, "and the Mudblood spawn that they create by stealing our gift of magic further proves that they are nothing more than desperate wild animals attempting to infiltrate and water down our ancient heritage of magic just so they can feel _special_."

The room was dead quiet. The young first years were unsure of what to make of the information given to them. Some knew better by now to not question Alecto's teaching. Despite the fact that most of the students were half-bloods, the punishments were brutal, and it was best to sit in silence.

Alecto scanned the room before placing an enlarged image up on the wall behind her. It was a disturbing image of several women tied to poles while fire consumed them. Several male bystanders stood and watched as if it were a sport.

"This is what these wretched creatures do to us. They torture and burn us to our _deaths._ "

She placed another image up. This one had several women being hung by their necks, and another image showed a woman tied to a strange device by the ankles and wrists being pulled from both ends by horses. A few students sucked in gasps while others wiped watering eyes at the horrid pictures. Alecto had a cruel smile creep across her face at the reactions.

"This is how they steal our magic, by _murdering_ our kind in cold blood, siphoning our magic from our bodies, and taking our wands for themselves," Alecto spat.

A student near the back had the nerve to raise his hand. Her sharp eyes landed right on him. The boy faltered, reconsidering the action.

" _What?"_

"Wh-why are they all women?"

Her eyes narrowed, and she slowly moved down the aisle toward the boy. "You think that just because it only depicts women that it wouldn't happen to your father? Brother? _You?_ "

The boy whimpered as Alecto loomed over him with her slightly taller, stockier stature. "These filthy creatures do not care who they steal from so long as they get what we rightfully possess. Do you understand me?"

He quickly nodded, prompting her to walk back to the front of the class. "Your homework is to write twenty-four inches of parchment about all the forms of torture our ancestors had to endure before we were forced to go into hiding and why."

Rounding on the classroom, Alecto placed her hands on her desk. "You all are lucky to not have to conceal your superior gift from the filth any longer thanks to our Dark Lord."

* * *

 **Written for Round 6, Year 2 of The Houses Competitions**

 **Written for the Fem Power March Challenge**

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Category:** Drabble (500 Words)

 **Prompt(s):** [Character] Professor Alecto Carrow

 **31 Days of Fem Power:** Day 4 - Teaching

 **Bonus Challenge:** Ladylike - Arrogant

 **Word count:** (Per Google Docs) 441

 **Beta(s):** Magi


	10. The Exercise in Flying (Katie, Romilda)

**Summary:** Katie Bell tries to teach Romilda Vane how to fly on a broom for reasons beyond her.

 **Rated K**

 **Genre:** General, Humor

* * *

 **The Exercise in Flying**

" _Psst!"_

The quiet, nasally noise came from nearby but Katie Bell simply ignored it. She really couldn't be distracted from this essay anymore than she already had been. Besides, she thought the library was supposed to be a quiet place.

" _Pst!_ Katie!"

She sighed heavily from hearing her name. Quickly doing a scan of the area around here, she spotted the other girl trying to get her attention from across the aisle. It was not like Romilda Vane was trying to hide the fact it was her, either, as she was blatantly looking right at her when their eyes met.

The younger witch gestured to Katie to come over to her table. Letting out a sigh, she gathered her things and moved across the way, not sure why she even decided to oblige in the first place.

"What's up, Romilda?"

The two shared a friend or two in their social circles, but Katie didn't really know Romilda all that well considering that they were a year apart. They were acquaintances at best, so it had her wondering what she even wanted from her in the first place.

"You're pretty good at flying, right?" Romilda whispered, glancing down the aisle to see if anyone was coming.

Katie had to refrain from snorting. She wasn't a chaser on Gryffindor's quidditch team for kicks. "A fair bit, yeah."

"Oh, that's good." The fourth year bit her lip, not seeming to want to continue her train of thought.

Growing a bit impatient, Katie rubbed at her brow before deciding to find out what this disruption was about. "So, is that it? Because I really need to study for my OWLs."

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to bother you. I was just… just wondering if…" Romilda swallowed hard. "Would you mind teaching me?"

"Teach you what? How to fly?"

The curly-haired witch nodded, shifting in her seat as she looked around some more. Katie sighed, fiddling with a strand of her hair as she contemplated a response. "I don't know, Romilda. I have my OWLs coming up and—"

"Please?"

Romilda gave her strange, pleading eyes. Obviously, this request meant a lot to her for some reason, and Katie couldn't think of other ways to say _no_ without actually saying it. Instead, she let out a defeated breath and nodded slowly.

" _Fine._ One lesson. Meet me at the quidditch pitch Saturday after breakfast, okay?"

The strange squeal that came from Romilda unnerved Katie. Why did she agree to this with no explanation from her end?

 **.oOo.**

Katie checked her watch and looked around the empty pitch for a sign of life. Romilda was running late as expected, but she had been standing out in the freezing morning air for fifteen minutes. She decided to wait for at least five more before taking to the skies. At least she could use it as an excuse for a quick practice and feel less foolish for being tricked by the silly witch.

Before Katie gave up on her and flew off, she spotted Romilda trudging over to her in a sleepy mess. The normally pristine looking witch had bedhead and no makeup on. Her rumpled robes seemed carelessly thrown on in a haste to not be late.

Katie placed a hand on her hip and took her in with amusement. "Overslept?"

Romilda covered her mouth as she yawned deeply. "Yeah, sorry. I almost forgot about our arrangement, but I really didn't want to miss it. I'm not late, am I?"

"I just got here, myself," Katie lied, not wanting to hurt her feelings. "Flying on an empty stomach is probably not the best way to start your morning. Here."

Katie pulled an extra granola bar she brought with her from her pocket and offered it to her. "I always have extra. It takes a lot of energy to fly."

"Got it. Thanks!" Romilda accepted the fruit infused granola and modestly picked away at it while Katie jumped into the basics.

"I brought my broom so you have something decent to use. The school brooms are just atrocious." Katie made a face to reinforce her statement. "So you don't have to worry about it being unpredictable or anything."

"Perfect!"

Romilda approached the broom laying on the ground, picked it up, and mounted it. Katie gaped at her.

"So, you just want to jump on in, huh?"

Romilda shrugged. "I know enough that I won't die. So, teach me how to do this."

Katie swatted stray hairs out of her face. "Okay, then."

An hour flew by and Romilda had only been comfortable enough to hover a few centimeters from the ground. She then would accidently push the broom to lurch forward, it would shoot out from underneath her while she toppled to the ground, getting hit with the bristles in the meantime. Katie decided a break was in order as she sat down beside Romilda who just had fallen off the broom again.

"You alright?"

"Yeah. I don't remember this being so difficult my first year. But then again, I wasn't very good at it then, either," Romilda said with a sigh, rubbing the arm she partially landed on a moment ago.

"So what made you want to get back into it?" Katie asked while rummaging through her book bag for some water.

"You'll think it's stupid."

"Try me."

Romilda fidged with the offered water flask Katie handed her. The chaser took a long drink of her own while waiting for an explanation.

"I read in a _Witch Weekly_ magazine that flying a broom was great for one's physique and so… I figured why not try it?"

Katie almost snorted out her water from the sudden urge to laugh. Using her arm to cover and wipe her mouth, she finished swallowing before properly chuckling. "They really wrote that?"

The curly-haired witch nodded sheepishly, trailing a hand over the soft spring grass.

"Well, they aren't wrong. But to make it sound like it could be someone's new daily work-out on a whim is a bit of a stretch. I'm sure there are other ways you can exercise that doesn't involve the risk of falling to your death," Katie said with another laugh while gently nudging the other girl with an elbow.

Romilda didn't find the statement funny at all. She turned her face away and let her hair hide her from the teasing girl beside her. Katie felt bad now for making a joke out of it.

"I'm sorry." She placed a light hand on the other girls arm. "Hey, if you want something like that I could show you our pre-warm up workout regimen. That might suit you better. What do you say?"

Romilda finally looked at Katie, the embarrassment no longer having her avoid the other girl. "Really? I didn't know you guys had a pre-workout you had to do."

Katie got to her feet and brushed off her racing trousers before offering a hand to the other witch. "Oh, definitely. Got to stay limber while flying. C'mon, let's give it a go."

Accepting the outstretched hand, Romilda seemed to have a fresh boost of confidence at the gracious offer. The girls quickly got to work, Katie smiled fondly as the other girl repeated the basic stretches and exercises used to keep a quidditch player's body loose and agile.

That day the two became a little bit closer.

* * *

 **Written for Round 6, Year 2 of The Houses Competitions**

 **Written for the Fem Power March Challenge**

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Category:** Short (500-2000 Words)

 **Prompt(s):** [Speech] "I know enough that I won't die. So, teach me how to do this."

 **31 Days of Fem Power:** Day 5 - Teaching

 **Bonus Challenge:** Bechdel Test

 **Word count:** (Per Google Docs) 1,229

 **Beta(s):** Trish, Magi


	11. The Twisted Room (Hogwarts)

**Summary:** When the very being of Hogwarts and the magic that it took to create and develop it into what it is goes haywire, it shows that even the most powerful of things cannot always control itself.

 **Rated T:** Some minor dark descriptions.

 **Genre:** General

 **Notes:** This is written in a third-person perspective of Hogwarts itself. Everything you read is coming from the heart of the castle. The Room of Requirement is written to reflect Hogwarts Heart in this story. It was birthed when Hogwarts became sentient. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **The Twisted Room**

There was never a question in anyone's mind that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry seeped very powerful magic. As soon as the ground was broken and its cornerstone laid down, its Founders used nothing less than their best skills to create such an amazing, yet safe school for their pupils to live and grow in. It was designed to last for centuries to come.

What the four never fully anticipated was the many expansions and modifications created over time that were made to the core frame of Hogwarts as the faculty, curriculum, and number of students grew. Classrooms were added, towers sprung up into the skies, courtyards were developed and landscaped. The castle grew in size and capacity, both inside and out. All these things were designed to suit the needs of those who used Hogwarts for its soul purpose: to teach and to learn. As time went on, the magic of many witches and wizards had infused the walls with so many magical signatures that no one stopped to realize what they were truly creating.

Oh, how little they truly knew.

Many would start to wonder why some staircases started to physically swivel every twenty-three minutes, or why that one step on staircase one-hundred and twelve would vanish on the hour, every hour. Some found the false doors particularly amusing. The strange classroom that only seemed to appear on a Tuesday on the second floor always had the strangest things hidden inside it. Most never bothered to look further into these anomalies. They were always explained away as a design flaw from a previous remodel or renovation. Those who had tried and failed to find a way to fix it, simply left it alone. The reason behind these strange things were never properly recorded in the school's own history, except for a side note mentioning that those sorts of things just simply happened in a school that dripped with magic.

It was not much of a stretch to say that the magical folk who created the school, and those who preceded them that aided in its growth, were not aware of how much raw magical essence the castle truly harnessed from them. It took a couple hundred years, but Hogwarts formed its own heart from the core of their magic they gave it, and had adopted several personalities from its creators during this time as well. It beat quietly within its very walls. It created passages for its students to find their way when lost, moved its inner structure to guide those who needed it, and occasionally had a humorous side to play pranks with false doors or trick steps sprinkled about.

Hogwarts molded its own magical powers from its countless creators. No one realized that the castle had birthed some form of sentience from it all.

Hogwarts had a tendency to keep secrets, and it also helped to hide many secrets for its students and staff. The classroom that had suddenly appeared on a Tuesday on the second floor was transformed into a very special room indeed on the day that Hogwarts became aware. One could even call it the castles very heart. Once discovered, it was called many names: Room of Hidden Things, The Come and Go Room, The Secret Room of Secrets, The Chameleon Room, and many more.

The most popular name, which eventually became the most common, was the Room of Requirement. That was just what it was. Hogwarts harnessed the power, gathered from generations of the witches and wizards who placed their mark on its stones, to give itself life and create this room that eventually moved to the castle's seventh and final main floor. It could transform into whatever a person asked of it, and the castle retained that version of a room to be summoned again by another who asked for it. Some who found it thought that the room was very strange and called it another flaw, another glitch, even when it performed flawlessly.

From damaged furniture wished to not be found by the Head of House, to objects that were experimented on and had gone terribly wrong that needed a place to contain it. It housed a great many things. Hogwarts would simply collect the trinkets with silly spells cast on them which were thrown out because they became dysfunctional. Sometimes, it would gather together the left behind objects the students had forgotten to pack and place them in the room for them to possibly be found one day. Often, the castle liked to keep the growing collection of its stuff as a form of memories, and would make these things very difficult to retrieve, unless the witch or wizard came to understand the very special nature of the room.

This special power was not indestructible, however.

Battle was something Hogwarts had witnessed in its early years. Most of the quarrels had to do with conquering the land the castle rested upon. In the early days, defenders of Hogwarts used the gift of magic to keep intruders at bay, and the castle walls remained mostly unscathed. The protection that was given to keep its magical land and protect its creatures did not go unnoticed by the ones who needed it in order to learn and grow. When turrets needed repair or a wall had to be rebuilt, they mended the damaged and added to its life essence. Hogwarts continued to stand strong against the woes of war through those Dark Ages. As time passed, those wars of occupation became less frequent. The castle wished to never face that sort of conflict again because of how the wars affected its life force when its physical body was damaged.

Several years went by in relative peace in its hidden home between the mountains with its sparkling lake and vast forest where many terrifying and beautiful creatures sought refugee and made it their homes. The power it stowed and harnessed to create secret passages and operate its Room of Requirement took a lot of energy, and there were always hiccups along the way, but it wasn't anything that couldn't be fixed. Even though the stone that it was built from liked to be mischievous at times and trip a student or confuse a teacher on where its classroom had moved to this time, Hogwarts never wanted to truly harm anyone with its abilities. It truly was the epitome of magic.

Then that mysterious boy arrived and added his personal magic to Hogwarts' walls.

The child was unusual in the sense of how superior he behaved around his peers and authoritative figures. He held a high level of respect for Hogwarts as more than a structure that encouraged learning and nurtured the gift of magic. This made him hauntingly trustworthy, and thus the stone walls revealed its many secrets to him. It's hidden passageways and shortcuts, even the extra special rooms and underground cellars, and the Room of Requirement was no longer a hidden place waiting to be found to this child. The boy knew how to utilize the power of persuasion and managed to use it to charm a non-living thing into doing whatever he wanted by touch alone. Hogwarts had seen its fair share of gifted and talented students in its time, but this one infused his magic with Hogwarts - seldom few students had actually done this, and it made the castle feel special the times it had happened.

The respect this person was able to give to cold stone and mortar was only the beginning, for it was the only time that he ever really showed true admiration to such an endless source of magic from the ancients. Never did Hogwarts ever imagine that this child would one day hide one of the darkest objects it had ever felt enter its heart and be added among its collection of rubbish. It was like he was entrusting a part of himself to it, and though the thing he hid held questionable magi, Hogwarts allowed him to conceal it in the secret room.

This young wizard loved the castle so much that he even wanted to return and be one of its teachers as soon as he was able. But there was a certain professor who stayed on the err of caution at this ambition, and he used his own influence to keep such a prominent and powerful position from someone who was slowly transforming into a monster. The spite he used to jinx one of Hogwarts curriculums shocked it to no end, like a slap in the face. No one had used negative magic on its structure before.

To this forlorn boy, his people had failed him.

The drums of war echoed across the lands once more. It was a feeling Hogwarts remembered well, but hoped never to revisit. The sacred lands never truly saw the physical destruction from of this war, but it viewed the damage through the pupils and teachers who lived within its walls for several years. Though no one knew the castle could feel, it hurt when its students were divided and torn apart by hatred and greed. The numbers felt lower than they had been one year. It was unusual and frightening for the castle to think that something outside of its precious walls had severely harmed the magical folk of the world enough to affect generations to come. Though its heart was rarely exposed during the years of their world's recovery, Hogwarts was still pleased to be able to produce the Room of Requirement whenever it was rediscovered.

The influx of new students steadily increased, but rebuilding a stable wizarding community within the school was something that would take time, and during this time it was something that could be restored. Hogwarts has seen recovery from war in its youth, the increase in students and staff, as well as a strange drop in numbers during uncertain periods of time. This time, things were different. The fear everyone possessed in their hearts and minds never went away, and for good reason, the castle knew. That dark object hidden deep among its most secretive room was starting to call for its master. Someone else's heart started beating inside of its own.

The power within the stone walls was not invincible.

Another war was brewing; the skies showed it, the people felt it, the creatures foretold it. But never did Hogwarts ever imagine to witness it. It merely anticipated that it would only absorb the after effects of the conflict's wake, like the countless times it had done so before. Its protectors were scared, but they cast their most skilled magic upon the grounds of their beloved school in order to protect the students for what was coming. Again, the castle tried its best to provide refuge to those who sought safety from the looming battleground they would soon face. It went so far to even seal away the Headmasters quarters against a wretched little witch who it witnessed harming its children unjustly. Hogwarts was not going to allow her to set foot in its true leaders room.

Itxs heart was used often during a long stretch of time, it felt like the secret had got out on how to access it and it was summoned daily. Though that was what the room was for - to help its staff and students, it grew worried that the integrity of its heart would wither. It took so much energy to maintain the room properly, and even more so when it soon became a stow away room to protect the children from the terrorists that stalked its corridors and tainted the classrooms. This headmaster was just as untrustworthy as the woman, but it knew the Headmaster trusted him, so Hogwarts reluctantly did, too. But how it wished for nothing more than to produce everything one would ever need to infinitely keep everyone safe and unharmed from war as they hid within its its very heart; the Room of Requirement. Alas, there were some laws which even sentient structures had to follow when it came to magic.

Pain and suffering spread all through the corridors, the courtyards, and the foyer. The castle shuddered hearing the screams of its pupils and teachers, the blood that painted the walls, the scorch marks that charred its framework. It could never have imagined the gaping holes and fires that burned and tore the very being of its structure apart. Hogwarts had never borne such burdens like this before, but that's what castles did – they defended their people. The magic and the power that Hogwarts possessed was virtually useless against the physical attacks in the height of the war, for stone could not throw out curses and hexes directly at its foes.

But it could move its structure, swivel its stairs out from under unsuspecting feet, have someone get turned around with the flip of a passageway, open a new door and lead the enemy to hurtle himself from a cliff in order to protect the child that stepped through it first. Its harmless pranks became deadly to its oppressors, but there was little else it could do. And there was less and less that it was capable of as its body sustained more and more damage and the magic bled from its stone.

Drunk on power and driven by greed, the boy who once adored Hogwarts had come back to destroy it. Knowing that the damage was inflicted by a wizard that it had once protected, taught, and adored cut the heart of Hogwarts deeply.

The castle cried out in sorrow and horror, leaving its heart open and vulnerable. At this very moment, a pupil who was more dangerous to himself than to anyone else, found the room and entered with every ill intention. The Fiendfyre was too powerful, cast by the hand of an unkilled wielder who was ignorant of its strength. The castle's trinkets and hidden objects - its memories from time lost in its past - fueled the curse that damaged its heart and crushed its soul. The devastation left in its wake was irreversible and its pain seeped into the walls, affecting every form the room could become ever since.

Once the dust settled and the rubble had crumbled and fallen still, the castle's spirit was left broken. Even more devastating, the countless years of items collected in its most secret and difficult to find room had been destroyed. A part of the castle's heart was permanently scarred. The walls were blackened. Ash blanketed the floors. The Room of Hidden Things soon became a vast nursery and breeding ground for an endless source of Ashwinder eggs. Even long after the intensive repairs that were made to the castle by the same witches and wizards that fought to defend helped remold its shape and regain strength, Hogwarts was not able to fully mend the magical damage inflicted inside its own secret room. Its own heart.

Thankfully the demand for its use was not required for several years since the haunting war that still echoed through its stones. The castle was able to shield its heart from its people while it desperately tried to restore it. If Hogwarts could shiver, it would have. It was a mark in time that would never be forgotten.

Despite the potential dangers this room now was, there were few who eventually sought out its use.

The young minds of the future slowly trickled back through the castle's doors. Hogwarts recognized some of them. Others were fresh and new. The castle could sense a similar magical essence flourish from some of the children; their parents magic now coursed through the castle in its restoration, it felt the connection. These were the ones that seemed to have knowledge of its secret room and actively looked for it the first chance they got.

It did not want to disappoint them, but it worried about how functional the room would be after its dormant, damaged state it was left in. With this in mind, the Room of Requirement produced their wants and needs as best as it could. Sometimes the walls would shudder and vibrate. Sometimes an object would randomly transfigure into something else that had not been asked for. Otherwise, the room was able to provide for the needs of its inhabitants as it had before.

One thing these children soon figured out was that the room did indeed act strangely compared to how it had been described to them by their families. The doors would often appear crooked. The panels would reflect the favourite colour of the student who conjured the room at the time instead of displaying an ornate doorway. Often, the very room itself would give the witch or wizard the feeling of being a bit off-center from standing on an unstable floor or have slanted walls. The more specific the request, the more strained the room would become, and things would get even more weird and glitchy because of it. Because of all this strangeness, the students gave it a new name: The Twisted Room.

It was only the beginning of what devastation the space would truly become.

Hogwarts only had one way to describe its treasured room – _heart –_ anymore. It felt like nothing more than a scar on its being rather than a source of its life. The room became a disheartened reminder of what power could create, and how that same power could destroy. Somehow, Hogwarts knew it was the twentieth anniversary of the war that permanently scarred its walls, tarnished its magic, and wounded its soul. It was not in the right mood to properly behave for the people who it called 'family'. The sentiment was illustrated through the unplanned staircase movements and the extra false doors appearing in bizarre areas. The hollow screams that came from out of nowhere were echoes of what the castle had heard in its darkest moments and not from a ghost lingering about.

What distressed the castle even more was that on this day, someone decided to use the Twisted Room to study. The unsuspecting students had wanted a quiet place to tuck away while the rest of the castle was filled with visitors for the anniversary of that horrible time. The room didn't form the way it was supposed to. It's room's opening appeared as a rickety wooden door with peeling red paint on it. The gloom within the heart of the castle gave the entrance an ominous feeling – a warning of sorts – but the children shrugged off their misgivings and entered anyway.

Inside, the room attempted to form a study nook; it had some bookshelves with relevant books and seating, but the shelves appeared charred and the books were battered with missing pages. The walls, instead of being clean and inviting, were smeared with soot, and the area smelled strongly of sulfur. The students were put on edge by the strange and unpleasant surroundings, and truly they should have been wary to begin with at the door alone.

The unthinkable had finally happened; Hogwarts was angry.

Suddenly, the door vanished. No matter how much the trapped students willed the room to create a new one, another exit never reappeared. The room instead had recreated the old Room of Hidden Things. Its trinkets, the junk, the countless treasures which Hogwarts had acquired in the eight hundred or so years since the Room of Requirement had first appeared at its sentient birth, had been reborn. They were all only an illusion now, but it still looked very real to those who were now trapped in its clutches.

The warmth in the room grew uncomfortable and the torch lights flickered aggressively. One of them on the far wall began to transform into a fiery flame that burned as hot as the sun. Then it grew larger and larger until the torch could no longer contain it. The big ball of flaming heat terrified the children. It terrified its creator as well. The students let out blood curdling screams that ripped through the room as it was slowly re-devoured by hellfire. The horrible sounds of the innocent were the only things that spared them. Hogwarts regained control of its anger, tempered the fire, and remembered what it had been built to do.

It was never meant to harm.

A door appeared, and let the children escaped with only slightly singed robes and eyes widened in terror. The castle forcibly slammed its doors after their frantic departure. While the people within its walls celebrated the victory of long ago, the room slowly shrank back in on itself in shame.

If it could cry, Hogwarts would weep dearly for the pain and suffering unintentionally inflicted upon those poor students. It never meant to lose control of the very thing it had created. The sheer power that was contained inside that room, inside the heart of the castle, would never be the same. The evil and darkness that had contaminated it from the Fiendfyre of the Battle at Hogwarts and it harboring that dark, tainted jewelry would forever leave a blackened mark on its soul. These things had altered its magic to the point of unrecognizable and unpredictable outcomes.

The doors to the Room of Requirement, a place that had become twisted and dangerous to its inhabitants and to itself rather than a tool to help educate and protect, would remain closed evermore. For the safety of the people it was made to protect, the heart of Hogwarts would forever be sealed away. Never to be harmed – or cause harm – ever again.

* * *

 **Written for Round 6, Year 2 of The Houses Competitions**

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Category:** Themed (2000-5000 Words)

 **Theme Prompt:** Power

 **Prompt(s):** [Setting] A glitching Room of Requirement

 **Word count:** (Per Google Docs) 3,604

 **Beta(s):** Pix


	12. No Going Back (Severus, Lily)

**Summary:** Severus had to try one last time. Was there any hope to get his best friend back?

* * *

 **No Going Back**

Severus Snape stood a safe distance away from the familiar childhood home of Lily Evans, hoping the witch would be home if he decided to set foot on the property. They just graduated and returned home yesterday, but he didn't have the guts to get tangled with the rowdy Gryffindors celebrating in the Great Hall to confront her then. He knew that if he didn't do this now, he never would.

Swallowing hard, Severus forced himself to close the distance, pushing the small gate to the garden open before standing before the pale yellow door. His hand knocked on it before he could tell himself not to.

A moment ticked by before Lily's green eyes soon met with his. She almost immediately went to slam it closed, but he halted it with a firm hand pressed against it.

"Lily, wait."

Green eyes glared back at Severus. He swallowed hard and resisted the urge to just leave. He needed to try one last time to salvage this friendship.

"Please, is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

Lily firmly shook her head. "You can't. Not anymore."

Severus hesitated to respond.

"Clearly you do not get it, Severus," She continued after a moment of silence. "The problem was that you changed to please the people who didn't really matter. They still don't, but you had to push aside those who truly cared about you for what? Getting even? Finding purpose?"

"I–"

"Goodbye, Severus."

The door clicked shut with a bitter finality.

He'd lost his best friend for good.

* * *

 **Written for Round 7, Year 2 of The Houses Competitions**

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Category:** Drabble (500 Words)

 **Prompt(s):** [Speech] "The problem was that you changed to please the people who didn't really matter."

 **Word count:** (Per Google Docs) 260

 **Beta(s):** Angel


	13. Artistic Disaster (Lovegood Family)

**Summary:** Mother and daughter pursued their dreams while sitting on the kitchen floor.

 **Genre:** Tragedy

* * *

 **Artistic Disaster**

When he walked in, paint was everywhere but the canvases. Dirty blonde hair was now turned into a rainbow from stray splatters from the brushes as Luna painted away on the walls of their kitchen by the table. The happy hum of a made up tune fell into sync with her mother who hummed nearby as she, too, happily worked on her project over a bubbling cauldron.

Xenophilius could only smile at his daughter and wife as he watched the pair work their artistic magic before his eyes. Luna's mural sparked to life from the touch of her paint-stained fingertips. The flutter of stars that she dotted across the blue-green sky twinkled as they were complimented by a full moon Luna had filled in with white. A touch of a blue-hue glowed from it once finished, and it lit up the landscape she peppered with nocturnal creatures.

Pandora sat nearby, her work station sprawled out around her on the ground. Her cauldron gurgled beside her as she studied her self-written spellbook which she always strived to improve. She was in the process of perfecting an instant brew charm, and he knew she would be able to accomplish it just as she had with the others in the past.

He ascended the stairs to his makeshift office, leaving his precious witches to their work while he went to tinker with his own. Xenophilius had just approached the well-worn chair before the floor shook under him, the horrid sound of a cauldron clattering was made soon after.

His child's scream summoned the man to the grave scene that unfolded just seconds ago when he swiftly retraced his steps. He collected the sobbing girl in his arms as he bore witness to his wife's failed experiment all around. The potion from the cauldron now splattered across the kitchen, Pandora stared at her family as her body feebly twitched, clinging to the last breath she held in her lungs to mouth her three final words.

* * *

 **Written for Round 8, Year 2 of The Houses Competitions**

 **Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Category Assigned:** Drabble

 **Prompt(s):** [First Line] When he/she/they walked in, paint was everywhere but the canvases.

 **The Insane House Challenge:** 855\. [Trait] Artistic

 **365 Prompts Challenge:** 358\. [Word] Precious

 **Writing Club - Shannon's Showcase - 10. Azerbaijan:** [Character] Luna Lovegood, [Word] Moon

 **National Photography Month - Abstract Photography:** Use no dialogue whatsoever in your story.

 **Word count:** (Per Google Docs) 329

 **Beta(s):** Jet


	14. Songbirds (Luna, Astoria)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **Assignment 9: Mythology Task 6: Stymphalian Birds -** Write about the Avis spell.

 **Writing Club: Creature Feature**

 **Achiyalabopa -** (dialogue) "Be colorful like a rainbow." **Actaeon -** (word) transgression

 **Count Your Buttons -** [Word] Melodic

 **The Insane House Challenge:** 313\. [Spell] Avis

 **365 Prompts Challenge:** 62\. Colour - Periwinkle

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 858

* * *

 **Summary:** Finding solace in something so simple can help ease the hearts of a war-torn world.

 **Genre:** General

 **Rating:** K+

* * *

 ** **Songbirds****

 _October 24th, 1998_

Luna hummed a strange melodic tune while watching the freshly conjured songbirds in varying shades of green flutter around her. She was hoping to have them learn the song she quietly sung in the autumn breeze, but she had no luck. They were more focused on their own musically whimsical sounds instead. At least they came out the colors that she wanted, it was a sign of progress.

It was considered early for most students to be wandering about the school grounds on a Saturday, but she liked to come and sit by the bank of the Black Lake and watch the early sun shimmer off its dark waters. It was like the equivalent to a night sky with twinkling stars piercing through the darkness. The fresh, cold air and lovely view helped set the mood and hone the witch's concentration in order to practice the complex magic among the quiet morning.

The signs of winter tinged the air. There was a war raging all around them, and even though Hogwarts was allegedly considered safe, it truly wasn't when some of the teachers – and the Headmaster himself – were full blown Death Eaters. Practicing the bird-conjuring charm may look innocent in the hands of the Ravenclaw, but Luna know that, with the right combination of spells, it could become quite hazardous when needed. This is why she practiced it, using the song as a harmless way to will the spell to do as she pleased, it was essential for when it would be utilized as a weapon.

As she banished the birds away and ceased her song, the witch focused on the spell once more. Taking care that the tune she wished they sang in mind, she let out a slow breath before making the needed motion with her wand.

" _Avis._ "

What Luna was not expecting to be that morning was a teacher. As three periwinkle songbirds burst from the tip of her wand with delicate pops, someone approached the Ravenclaw.

"Your spellwork is beautiful."

Sparkling silver eyes looked up to meet hazel ones of the Slytherin witch who spoke.

"Thank you," Luna replied, turning her attention back to the birds flying around the water's edge.

The younger girl sat down beside her and watched the birds with the blonde. "It's refreshing to see something look so free and peaceful, especially now."

Luna gave a shrug, waving her wand in the air to have the periwinkle birds explode into tufts of feathers around her. The Slytherin appeared startled at the popping sounds and watched as the feathery remains of the birds cascaded around them. Luna was wary of her presence, wondering why she was bothering to converse over the birds.

"Sometimes even the peaceful nature of something innocent and beautiful can become destructive." The Ravenclaw gave her attention back to the girl beside her, asking a silent question of why she was there.

"I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself." She held out a delicate hand. "I'm Astoria."

The Ravenclaw made no notion to accept it. "Luna."

Astoria should know the transgression she was facing that came with the colors she wore. Betraying the mass was not a wise choice when it came to conversing with someone who openly supported Harry Potter. In the moment Luna didn't care, all she wanted was a friend it seemed, but she would have to tread cautiously. She wasn't usually biased against anyone based on their House, but this time it was different, the Ravenclaw had to be careful to not expose the remaining D.A. members to the wrath of the Carrows. Being a Slytherin did not help Astoria's case, but Luna was not going to judge her so easily.

Luna prepared to cast the spell once more.

"Are you able to make them be colorful like a rainbow?" Astoria asked.

Luna didn't answer, instead she focused on the colors for the birds as requested. With practised movement of her wand, she focused on the spell.

" _Avis."_

Ten birds burst from her wand, each one the color of a rainbow of varying shades. They chirped Luna's song she hummed to them earlier now, and the Ravenclaw smirked at her success. Holding out her hand, the periwinkle bird landed happily in it and continued to sing.

' _I did it.'_

Astoria sighed, holding her own hand out for a bird to perch on. She observed the magic-conjured creature carefully as it sang its melodic song. "They are quite lovely. Wish I could do something like it."

"You can do anything you put your mind to." Luna's gaze met Astoria's, a light smile on her face. "But the secret is believing in yourself."

Astoria returned the gesture as the violet bird took flight from her hand once more. "I suppose that's true."

The two fell into a comforting quiet. Luna watched her creation soar around her and over the lake, Astoria observing them as well. Despite not knowing the girl who decided to socialize with her, she found her presence welcoming and soothing. It kept the thoughts of what were to come at bay as she made a new friend.


	15. Repercussions (Draco, Voldemort)

**Assignment 9: Religious Education Task 7: Following Taboos -** Write about someone being rewarded for following rules/orders, or punished for breaking them.

 **Writing Club: Emy's Emporium - The Empire -** write about a powerful man/woman or organisation (e.g. Voldemort, Ministry of Magic)

 **Book Club: Tala -** [Word] Safe [Action] Smiling [Word] Burn

 **Showtime: 25. Building the Barricade -** [Word] Plan

 **Count Your Buttons:** 2\. [Dialogue] "I didn't mean it like that."

 **Ami's Audio Admirations:** 2\. Limetown - (word) Experiment

 **Sophie's Shelf: Theatre Troupe:** 10.b) Write about an adult bullying a child.

 **Insane House Challenge:** 161\. [Location] Malfoy Manor

 **365 Prompts Challenge:** 210\. [Plot Point] Calling a secret meeting

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 1,587

* * *

 **Summary:** A task assigned by the Dark Lord should never be taken lightly. Even the slightest hints at swaying from it requires immediate correction and reminder that consequences matter.

 **Genre:** Angst

 **Rated:** T - Violence, Torture.

 **Warnings:** Mentions of Torture on a child

* * *

 **Repercussions**

 _5th of April, 1997_

The loud crack announced Draco's arrival by Portkey onto the Malfoy Manor's property. He immediately broke into a brisk pace to avoid the oncoming nausea; walking through the black iron gates without an upward glance as they melted into a thick smoke before him. Severus Snape stood in silence at the entrance of the manor, his expression telling Draco that he had been impatiently waiting on him for some time now.

The blond ignored the professor, proceeding through the dark oak doors into the foyer without a word. Whenever Severus loomed outside waiting for his pupil, it became a sign of forewarning the Dark Lord was not happy with Draco, and that some sort of repercussion was in order. The young wizard had been lucky so far with only receiving bone chilling verbal threats, yet Draco knew he was capable of much, much worse for far less than what what the young recruit had been guilty for to date. Perhaps he knew the task alone was enough mental torture, so far it rang true.

Severus was right on Draco's heel. A pale hand firmly grabbed the youth's shoulder to pull him back. The blond jerked his arm backward, throwing the professor's hand off him while turning on him simultaneously.

"Don't touch me," Draco snapped, sharp silver eyes cutting into Severus.

The potions master did not react to his pupil's hostility. "The Dark Lord wants an update on your task. He's growing impatient with you."

"You don't think I know that already?" Draco spat back, exhaustion ate at him and fueled his irritation. "I'm _trying._ "

Severus' dark eyes narrowed on the youth. "Your _trying_ has been nothing but foolish and reckless. Continuing to _try_ will only get you killed. If you'd accept my aid—"

Draco turned his back on the professor, not wanting to listen to his scolding on the failed plans for a second time. Facing the hall that lead him to Voldemort, he spoke with venom lacing his words.

"I don't want your help. This is my mission. Just leave me alone!" Draco continued down the corridor without another word – Severus close behind him.

Severus' constant presence around Draco had him quickly grow to dislike and distrust the professor. His stalking and persistent requests – _demands_ – to help him achieve this important (impossible?) task quickly wore out the blond's patience with him. Not only did the potions master usurp his father's position in the Dark Lords ranks, he had a feeling – or rather knew – he reported Draco's every move to Voldemort, thus only increasing his anger toward him, and in extension, threatened his mother's safety. Draco would rather avoid anything that could further risk punishment if he could help it, that was why he told Voldemort he could have Death Eaters infiltrate Hogwarts. It was to offer something valuable in exchange for minimal backlash in the drawbacks to his plans on killing Dumbledore.

' _The professor is only following his own orders,'_ Draco thought bitterly, 'He _doesn't trust me to pull it off and expects my failure regardless...'_

He shook off further judgment of the consequences that were attached to this likely outcome. Severus turned on Draco mere meters from the double doors, expression passive as he observed the blond.

"Be honest with your answers. Do not resist his inner probing," the potion's master advised before stepping aside.

The doors to the drawing room creaked open on their own and suddenly the blond felt less confident than he was seconds ago. What was Draco going to tell the Dark Lord? He made some progress in the time that's passed, but had even less to show for it. He came up with a plan that pleased him, but he knew that wasn't going to be enough if he couldn't get the passage for the Death Eaters mended. The cabinet was heavily damaged, and the skill needed to repair it was beyond Draco's level in magic and knowledge. Still, he had to try, the attempts he made on the Headmaster's life were utter failures, but he was not out of plans, not yet…

He also was not safe by any means.

Severus entered just ahead of his pupil, moving to one side of the room to bear witness of tonight's unscheduled gathering. Eyes wandering, Draco glimpsed his aunt standing at Voldemort's side. A few silhouettes of others were scattered about, but none he cared to identify. The blond quickly took a knee, fixating his eyes at the Lord's feet. Robes fluttered with movement as he rose from the solitary chair placed in the room.

"You've kept me waiting, Draco."

The blond tensed at the menacing tone, prepared for a curse to hit him while being scolded. It never came. Draco's heart was already in overdrive pounding loudly in his ears. He had to stay focused so to not faint or vomit, and he dare not answer; excuses would only make everything worse.

"Your progress?"

"I've managed some improvements but—"

There it was; the icy grip of Legilimency piercing his skull. A quiet groan escaped Draco's lips as Voldemort invaded his mind. The songbird coming through the cabinet dead flashed by, but the apple – and many other inanimate objects – came back intact and unbroken time and time again. Whatever progress he thought he made on the magical cabinet was much less than he hoped, and he could not hold back the fear swelling in his chest.

Voldemort hissed as he withdraw from the youth's mind, reproaching the blond with malice. Draco was not prepared for the shocking spell that struck his chest and send his muscles into a painful spasm. He clutched at his sides in sudden agony, but it was gone seconds later. That was a new curse, but it was not the Cruciatus Curse that he anticipated.

"You have great potential, Draco. Yet you've wasted so much time already with this experiment instead of applying yourself elsewhere. You've forgotten your main assignment."

"I have not, my Lord," Draco confirmed, forcing to meet those frightening red eyes to show his Master he was speaking the truth. "I assure you once I have this plan in order I can–"

Slitted red eyes narrowed, a breathy hiss came from non existent lips of Voldemort. The young recruit felt the icy twinge prick his mind again, and the failures to kill Dumbledore echoed past his conscience. The accusations spreading about him was what made The Dark Lord's lip curl with disgust.

" _Crucio_!"

The spell struck Draco hard, feeling every ounce of fury pouring out of his Master at the failures he witnessed. He ended the spell after several seconds, yet the lasting effects left the blond breathless and in agony as he dared not move off the floor. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes and threatened to reveal his weakness.

"Fool! He _knows!"_

"My Lord, he doesn't. I swear…" He explained, voice raspy as he feebly pushed himself up. "Only Potter, but he– no one listens to him!"

A cold hand grabbed Draco's chin, sharp, thin fingers dug into a pale cheek and jawline as he jerked Draco's upwards to look at him. "He _suspects_."

Voldemort accentuated the "s" sound, sending shivers down the blond's spine. He shoved Draco's face to the side, his nails slicing into flesh as he did so. He turned away and walked back to his makeshift throne nearby.

"Your negligence to the cause will not be tolerated." Voldemort turned to face Draco. "The lack of subtlety evades you."

Draco cupped a tender jaw, feeling the scratch marks left behind by Voldemorts hand. His Master paced in front of him as Draco slowly and painfully corrected his kneeling posture. His muscles spasms twitched uncontrollably at the residual burn left behind from the curse. Pausing, Voldemort made an uncomfortable and sudden jerk of his head to look at the dark witch standing nearby.

"Bellatrix,"

The twisted witch all but leapt forward, the wicked smile overwhelmed her gaunt face. "Yes, My Lord?"

Draco's eyes widened at the summons of his aunt that he did not process what else Voldemort said. "No– my Lord. Please, allow me to try again and I won't fai–"

The blond was silenced by a menacing snarl and the effects of a worldless curse seized his muscles again. It burned, but not in the same way as the Cruciatus Curse. The after-effects left his limbs spazzing again, but he still forced himself back into his kneeling stance.

"I didn't mean it like that…" Draco rasped out breathlessly. Desperate to correct his mistake. Trying was a step into accepting defeat. "I assure you, my Lord, I will complete this task to your standards—"

"Silence," Voldemort hissed, "Your silver tongue will not sway me, boy."

"Bellatrix, see to it your _nephew_ learns what it means to follow orders accordingly."

Bellatrix bowed her head obediently, moving toward the frazzled young wizard crouched before him. "Of course My Lord. You shall not be disappointed once I'm through with the boy. I promise you."

Voldemort said nothing, instead giving a dismissive flick of his hand. Mental exhaustion was clouding Draco's mind, aftershocks of the Cruciatus Curse jerked at his nerves as he had no choice but to accept whatever Bellatrix had instore for him. He felt rough, bony fingers grab at a bicep, dragging him to his feet and guided him from the room. Draco watched as Voldemort resumed his seat, red eyes pierced into him as the doors closed.


	16. Protection (Luna)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments)**

 **Written for Round 10, Year 2 of The Houses Competitions**

 **Written for the Term of Service May 2018 Challenge**

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Category Assigned:** Drabble (500 Words)

 **Prompt(s):** [Word] Secret

 **Innerhouse Hufflepuff Prompt:** [Object] Eggs

 **Terms of Service Fill:** 01

 **Representation(s):** Creature Guardian/Protector

 **Bonus Challenge(s):** Tomorrow's Shade

 **365 Prompts Challenge:** 77\. [Creature] Occamy

 **The Insane House Challenge:** [Title] Protection

 **Count Your Buttons: 2.** [Object] Feather

 **Word count:** (Per Google Docs) 475

 **Beta(s):** Angel

* * *

 **Summary:** When the call to protect an endangered creature lands in Luna's lap, she will defend it at all costs, even if it means to keep secrets from her superiors when there is potential danger within the department.

 **Genre:** Adventure

 **Rating:** K+

 **Warning:** Mentions of animal/creature poaching.

* * *

 **Protection**

Luna was always good at keeping secrets when it was deemed necessary, even if she had to keep them from her friends, father, or lovers. Her work as an aspiring magizoologist for the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures required her to harbor secrets. It was a crucial tool when being entrusted with sensitive information to rare creatures and their locations. Some were on the verge of being placed on the endangered list, others faced extinction, so keeping their protected locations quiet was top priority.

One of her recent assignments was to locate and investigate a rogue Occamy that allegedly started nested in Ireland. These creatures were exclusively native to the Far East and India, and few in numbers, so having one nesting so far from their territory was concerning and screamed the work of smugglers wishing to sell to poachers.

When Luna arrived to the general whereabouts of the recorded Occamy, she was already too late.

The creature had been hunted and poached for its wing feathers and glistening feather-like scales for potions and wand cores. their remains were already attracting flies and maggots, so it had been dead for a little while now. Luna took several photos of the Occamy and recorded what she observed in her notes. They had said this female was of nesting age, so there may be a nest closeby. The witch could only hope that it was not found by her attacker.

She carefully navigated the rough terrain where the ruins of an old church remained that the creature might have taken refuge in. There was no nest. Luna decided to scout the cliffside, and sure enough, she found six silver eggs nestled in a large nest where a couple molted feathers and scales lingered. She collected a few for samples before very carefully gathering the eggs. Leaving them was not an option.

Back at work, there was suspicion that someone had leaked the Occamies whereabouts. The Aurors were given instruction to keep an eye out for unregulated Occamy materials being circulated around to the apothecary shops. Luna found the news troubling, and for the safety of the unhatched eggs, she decided to keep them a secret from her superior. A poacher didn't hesitate to obtain the location despite the risks, who would stop them from wanting the priceless eggs as well?

Luna created a makeshift nest for the six little eggs in a secret room hidden in her closet. The nest was also an incubator to keep the eggs warm. She didn't risk reporting them, only the empty nest, feathers, and scales. It was a shame to lose the young Occamy female that fell into the wrong hands. But with a silent promise, Luna would protect her offspring and return them to their rightful territory once the creatures were capable of surviving on their own.


	17. The Salem Reform (Astoria-Draco)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **Written for the Terms of Service May 2018 Challenge**

 **Assignment 10 - Women's History - Task 5:** Write about an early fight for equality (women's rights)

 **Terms of Service Fill:** 03

 **Representation(s):** Social Justice

 **Bonus Challenge(s):** Tomorrow's Shade; Second Verse (Not A Lamp)

 **Sophi's Shelf:** Stefano - 1a. Write about someone who isn't safe

 **Emy's Emporium:** Women Warriors 11. Write about a woman fighting (symbolic)

 **Showtime:** 27\. The First Attack - [Action] Crying

 **Writing Club:** Tala - [Object] Stone, [Word] burn, The Blue Man - [Dialogue] "Fairness does

not govern life and death."

 **Ami's Audio Admirations:** 11\. Oscar - [Plot Point] Being burned at the stake

 **Count Your Buttons:** 2\. [AU] Salem Witch Trials

 **Insane House Challenge:** 239\. [AU] Historical

 **365 Challenge:** 138\. First Line - This wasn't supposed to happen.

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 2,176

 **Beta(s):** Pix

* * *

 **Summary:** When the purpose of the cause is lost in the need for power, reckless mistakes are made when they seemed valid at the time they were made.

 **Genre:** Tragedy

 **Rated T:** Minor gory details, potential sensitive material to pagen/wiccas.

* * *

 **The Salem Reform**

' _This wasn't supposed to happen.'_

Astoria Malfoy repeated this in her head while curled up in herself on the cellar's dirt-covered ground she was thrown in with five other women accused of witchcraft. They all waited for their fates to be judged by the town of Salem. She wept softly in her designated corner, but not from fear of the imminent sentencing she will no doubt face, it was out of sheer anger.

Ever since the town known as Salem rapidly developed on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, the magical population raised suspicion among the non-magic folk not far down the road. It didn't take long for them to to declare that young women, and even some men, were practicing "the devil's work". Disgusting trials were held to confirm or dismiss these claims, and things had quickly spiraled out of control for the magic users. The Malfoys decided to go undercover and infiltrate the Salem government where the manipulation to becoming the town's judge was successful. Their goal to spare their own from such a terrible fate had worked, but it just wasn't enough to completely stop the trials from continuing.

Draco's campaign to become the new governor was not going in his favor. His reputation as a judge was quite mixed based on his careful practice in convicting the accused. Some found his verdicts less than desirable. Since the fairness he exercised in the courtroom held him back from the new position longer than desired, the Malfoys plotted to discreetly get rid of the current governor, Cornelius Fudge, in order to give the public little choice on who to nominate to take his place.

A clever poison Astoria had developed was supposed to make the man's health gradually decline and eventually pass away from complications. But something went wrong and it instead killed him instantly during a private dinner attended by the Malfoys, Cornelius, and Theodore to discuss potential reforms to trial procedures. This raised great suspicion among the servants. Feeling backed in the corner with a murder being pinned on him, Draco had turned on Astoria when three maids approached him accusing Astoria of witchcraft. They claimed to have witnessed it firsthand in the storage room moments ago. He took the hearsay and used it to his advantage instead of handling the peasant's accusations accordingly to protect Astoria from harm.

Draco's corruption and desire for more power placed his own wife in mortal danger to achieve his goals.

The early morning trial came quickly despite Astoria's lack of sleep throughout the night. She knew that Draco was going to send her to the stake in order to seal his own agenda. Astoria would get her revenge on her dear husband, he just didn't know it yet.

The six witches were shuffled into the makeshift courtroom in order for the scrutinizing to begin.

"We are here to evaluate and dictate the claims of witchcraft upon these six women for the next week," Draco began to the court, allowing grey eyes to sweep the small space before him. "As we all know how my process works, it will take time for me to determine if the information and evidence provided to me merits an execution sentencing. Without further delay, please present the first case."

The first woman was plucked from the crowd by Theodore, Draco's good friend and prosecutor who aided in planting or removing evidence as needed in favor of a ruling. Tear stains streaked down her dirt-covered face as she was lead to the stand. Astoria and the other four were returned to the cells, and the days slowly drug on. Another woman was pulled from the cell the following day and never seen again. The cycle continued on.

Draco thought that being as thorough as he could with each case gave the victims a subtle mercy. Drawing out their fates until he could confidently declare their guilt or innocence would give them time with little public backlash. Having the simple minded see reason was easy when everything was explained within their level of understanding. Many of the Hogsmeade residents were spared under his rule, which was the sole purpose for going undercover to the non-magic town in the first place. But occasionally, someone had to be found guilty to keep them satisfied and to secure his position. These victims were oftentimes residents of Salem.

If Draco became governor, he could heavily influence and write the city laws, virtually allowing him to thwart all accusations of witchcraft. But where was the line drawn on what he would do to get there?

It was the eve of Astoria's trial. Naturally, Draco would push hers to be the very last, but she found the gesture warped. Why should he offer such a subtle sign of mercy to her when he was the one that had put her there?

She was alone in the cell now. A sympathetic Theodore had told her the others were declared innocent and released. Astoria would be the public's scapegoat this time.

The witch could feel his magical signature behind her, but she didn't bother to turn and look at the man she had once loved.

"My lo—"

"Spare me your poisonous words Draco! This is _not_ how you treat someone you _claim to love,_ " Astoria spat back, barely looking over her shoulder at Draco. "How could you?"

He raised his head slightly at her scathing words, giving him a more superior stature as he spoke.

"This is your doing," he declared, giving him the reaction he wished – her piercing hazel eyes to fully address him. "Three witnesses, Astoria. What was I supposed to do?"

"You're supposed to off them and quietly tuck away the evidence, which is the very thing I'd have done for you!" she retorted.

"And have four casualties on our hands, one of them being the bloody governor?!" Draco hissed back, eyes glinting. "We were already under heavy suspicion from this alone. Had you not given me a tainted potion—"

"Here you pin the _accident_ on me? Why is it not yours?" she threw back, voiced raised. "You are just as capable of making an error as I am!"

"My measurements are always precise."

"And so are my brews!" Astoria shrieked. "You cannot even admit to me your own mistake that should have never even happened, and instead you'd rather blame me because it is _easier_ and salvages your pride."

Draco let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please understand, if I were in here, our entire reputation and cause would be ruined, Astoria. I have no choice. You have too many witnesses and evidence for me to bar me from formulating reasons on swaying the trial—"

"You have condemned me to a fate worse than death, and now you come here and tell me you are not going to even try to save me?" Astoria bellowed.

"Fairness does not govern life and death. I'm truly sorry."

"You disgust me, dear husband," she snarled, seeing her sharp glare pierce his demeanor. "If you are truly sorry, you will refrain from slipping Theodore my wand and the potion as evidence. But you will not, because you crave power, and this will seal _your_ agenda. When was I lost in this formula? When was I replaced?"

Silence was given. She knew he had answers burning in his throat, he just refused to admit that the treachery she spoke of was true. "I hope you and Theodore are happy in finally being capable of making the difference you and I set out to achieve together."

Astoria could see his hurt, but it didn't soften her fury with him. A deep trust had been broken, and there was no way it could ever be mended even if he broke her from this cell at this very moment and they fled into the night. He was not the same man she loved.

"Trust me when I say I wish things could be different, but—"

"But nothing!" Astoria cut in. "I truly hope you understand the weight of this choice, for I will now burn because of them. Your success as governor will be stained with my blood while you serve our community. Pray they won't find out the cost."

Her sobbing was barely audible, but Draco knew it was not sadness she was expressing. She turned her back on him and huddled herself in the back corner.

"Astoria…" he swallowed a lump in his throat, producing a small vial of an orange substance to offer her. "Please at least take this to have you fade from consciences during..."

"Spare me your mercy, Draco," she said with a shaken breath. "I will suffer this fate you instilled upon me properly, and so shall you."

Astoria did not witness his departure, but she felt his magic no longer present aside from the small vial he left behind. She grabbed it and threw it at the furthest wall and watched its constants splatter on impact.

 **.oOo.**

"Astoria Malfoy, you have been found guilty of the crimes brought against you of practicing witchcraft, thus leading to the murder of governor Cornelius Fudge of Salem. You are hereby sentenced to death by burning," Theodore recited from the written parchment given from the judge. "Is there anything you wish to say before you succumb to your fate?"

Astoria was now tightly bound to a thick post in the center of town, all of Salem circled around her to witness her death at sundown. Some were already throwing stones at her, striking her legs as they jeered and shouted at the sight of a guilty magic user. The oil soaked pile of wood and straw hid the wooden platform Astoria stood upon. The smell of the dense substance assaulted her senses and burned her throat. She no longer felt the fresh wounds and bruises from the stones as she glared out at her prosecutors.

"Hear me, people of Salem! This fight you claim in order to cleanse the evil from us is for naught! The fear you have of the women you condemn is unfounded.

"These medicines we create soothe and heal your sick and injured. The food you eat is prepared from our skills on how to create it. The clothes you wear are woven and mended by our hands." Astoria looked out over the crowd, making sure to lock gazes with a pair of grey eyes nearby.

"The children we bear that carry your name are nurtured and reared by us!"

She watched as Draco's expression faltered at this statement. It was a subtle confession, but it was clear that he understood what she intended. He masked his regret just as quickly as it came, but she saw it. A spiteful smile crept across her lips. Revenge tasted sweet.

"You all only see the end results, but never look to see where it starts. Witnessing these skills in their raw practice only scare you because you fear us as women being capable of outperforming men. They only ever see us as being inferior to them, and so when they glimpse the skill of our work, they fear it rather than praise it. We should not have to defend our methods of attending to daily chores unless you provide reason behind yours as well!

"We all should be regarded as equals, and not be shamed and condemned in the name of fear and the unknown. Learn from your wife, mother, daughter, the same way that they, too, learn, and this fear will be lifted! Only then will you see how wrong your actions are."

The crowd grew eerily quiet from her words. Stones dropped at their feet, women sobbed in relief, men muttered among themselves. Astoria smiled despite herself as she skimmed over her audience, she made sure to rest her eyes on her husband once more. He looked away seconds later to address Theodore to proceed.

Theodore lit the torch he held in hand, looking up at Astoria to regard her one last time. "May God have mercy on your soul."

Hazel eyes remained locked in on Draco as the flame ignited the fuel at her feet. The sick revenge now left a bitter taste on her tongue, but he had to realize his mistake outweighed his ambitions. It appeared to work as his mask slowly faded away. The smoke grew thick around her, it burned her eyes and throat as the air grew ashy and hot. Her dress caught fire quickly and slowly licked up her body, searing and blistering her flesh. Restrained cries were no longer contained as the witch was soon swallowed in flames.

Draco could not look away, even when Astoria's agonizing screams shattered his very being. He watched as the smoke slowly suffocated her and the heat evaporated all signs of the tears that streamed down her face. He blinked away several tears himself before finally tearing his gaze from Astoria to Theodore, the man who aided in this cruel death. Someone had to pay for his grave mistake...


	18. Spare Parts

They were ordered to duel in the space dome today. It was one of Nebula's most hated arenas on the ship to fight in due to the intended nature of feeling vulnerable and exposed while surrounded by the vast emptiness that was the darkness of space. Even with the countless galaxies sparkling across the neverending darkness twinkling away among the gasses and dust brought her no comfort. Her home was no longer living among them, and the man who sat on the throne above them was responsible for her home planets destruction.

The chime resonated within the dome and Gamora wasted no time charging Nebula. She was in a particularly foul mood today, and dealing with Gamora and her ruthlessness was not something Nebula was going to tolerate during this fight.

The two girls have been fighting each other for what felt like eons now, but Nebula knew that she was still only a child in her people's measurement of age. Though she appeared fully grown, her long lanky form still lacked natural strength and muscle tone of a fully grown Luphomoid. She suspected Gamora—a Zehoberei—were a species naturally designed to be fighters and was already more toned and filled out in comparison.

Though their diets could be a contributing factor, she hadn't had a proper meal in weeks, but what Nebula knew of her species was that she was naturally designed for speed and endurance rather than brute force. It just meant that she had to wear Gamora down in order to get the upper hand.

Thanos told them today was supposedly a special one, and that the victor would be well rewarded because of it. Nebula knew he liked to instill some kind of comfort and compassion for him, that he was a caring and merciful father to them, but being in Thanos' control for seven planet cycles now (Nebula guesstimated, anyway. Measurement of time was blurred in space.), had taught her to know better by now.

Gamora approached with purpose and Nebula side-stepped and grabbed her by the shoulder at the last second, using her momentum to jerk Gamora off-balance enough for Nebula to crouch and dodge the anticipated punch before sweeping her legs from under her. The kick to her side prompted Nebula to grab Gamora's leg and violently twisting it in an attempt to subdue her sister in all but blood.

The Zehoberei's maneuvers to tear away from Nebula eventually had her roll away before quickly getting to her feet to face Gamora once more in another tangle of precise kicks and punches to pressure points and joints. Despite only having rations of the unpleasant nutrient drink once a day for a week, Nebula's endurance held up, but if previous fights taught her anything, she knew salvaging her energy was the only way to keep up with Gamora anymore. Wearing her down was still difficult, and the seldom few victories Nebula has obtained always resulted in disabling Gamora as efficiently and as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately she wasn't the only one who learned from these fights.

Time passed and Nebula saw the guards bring out a weapons rack out, this indicated Thanos grew bored of Nebula deflecting Gamora and needed them to take it to the next level, but she knew she had to do everything in her power to keep her sister away from those weapons. If she got a hold of one, Nebula would be finished.

She bolted for them, but Gamora knew her tactic, and even though she was lying on the ground at Nebula's feet, she managed to grab her and scale up her back. The threatening growl escaped from Nebula as she tried to throw Gamora off her, but she had already got a leg over the Luphomoid's shoulder. Gamora proceeded to squeeze her leg around Nebula's throat, attempting to subdue and stop her from going for the weapons. Nebula clawed at her leg while hitting her knee-joint continuously, even attempting to bite her was not manageable, and the slow suffocation started to get to Nebula. She eventually threw herself forward, causing Gamora to hit the ground while Nebula went into a roll, effectively throwing her sister off her as well as putting her that much closer to the weapons.

Her jaw tore away from Gamora's leg, leaving it sore and tingly, but Nebula managed to get to an electric spear before her sister. With all the strength she could put behind the swing, the spear electrified on contact when it struck Gamoa square to the side of her head.

Nebula smirked despite the horrible impact sound it made, she got the upper hand on her sister, she could still win.

With fresh determination, Nebula got to her feet before inflicting another blow on Gamora's paralyzed body, striking her in the back this time. She was still conscious, however, and the spit she left behind was mixed with her blood.

Pressing the spear threateningly close to her neck, Nebula looked down at her sister with hidden pity. If she were in Gamora's position, she would've been beaten until she yielded or passed out, but Nebula was always more merciful and sometimes she hated herself for being too soft.

Thanos made sure to throw that weakness in her face every chance he got, too.

"Do you yield?"

Gamora snarled and Nebula smacked her face hard with the spear again, send a shock through her body. With good measure, she stomped hard on the small of her back.

"Yield!"

"You'd have to kill me," Gamora hissed, and it broke Nebula's heart.

She went to hit her again, but her sister recovered from the paralysis in time to grab the other end and rip it from her hands. This startled Nebula, and she attempted to recover from the force but Gamora shifted, kicking her leg from her, and stabbing her in her side with the spear. She crumbled to the ground from the effects of the well aimed shock, but this only made her mad.

Nebula got to her feet and risked pursuing hand-to-hand combat with Gamora. Her attempts to get the spear from her were successful when she managed to curl her leg around the pole and pull it away, but Gamora latched onto her arm, twisting her body around hers until her arm was painfully locked behind her back. The back of her leg was kicked from under her and forced her to kneel and bend over, Gamora leaned into her back, pulling her arm further out of place with her weight.

"Drop the spear, Nebula."

Nebula released a cry of pain, her jabs with her elbow were futile, and the spear and wedged between her leg and the ground now, rendering it useless to her.

"You'd have to kill me," she echoed back through clenched teeth.

Nebula felt Gamora's weight shift ever so slightly and she immediately used it to try and yank herself free from underneath her. The spear sliced her leg in the process, but Gamora didn't let go of her arm during the maneuver, and the slap of pain that surged through her told Nebula she lost.

Gamora kicked her side when Nebula tried to roll away, pulling her twisted arm into an unnatural way when she did so. This effectively pulled her shoulder completely out of place and then some, and Nebula fell onto the spear in the process, the shock throwing her into unconsciousness.


	19. Cruising Shinanigans

Draco found himself on the main deck of the vast cruise ship staring out into the sparkling blue waters. He found the view beautiful despite the disastrous honeymoon he and Astoria experienced with the unfortunate encounters with his parents who mistakenly booked the same cruise as them.

They were heading back for England now, stopping back at the locations they first docked at on the way to Greece for the return trip. Draco hoped it could be a last ditch effort to salvage and enjoy the remaining holiday with the love of his life and not spot his parents in the crowd.

Astoria joined him, watching the setting sun and listening to the soft waves slosh below.

"I spoke to your parents," she said, breaking the silence. "They promised to stay on the ship for the return trip."

"I doubt they will," Draco muttered, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her close. "This cruise was supposed to be for us. It's already tarnished knowing of their presence."

"Mmm…"

The crowds seemed to dwindle since it was nearing the general dinner time, but it made the deck more comfortable that way for her to unleash her final plan.

Astoria turned to look in his eyes then, cupping his face and smiling coyly. "I hope it hasn't completely ruined the mood."

The unsaid words had Draco raise a brow. The thought of knowing his own parents were in the suite cabin right next to theirs was unsettling, but the playful look dancing in Astoria's eyes stirred something in his chest.

He let out a nervous laugh then. "You don't mean…"

She kissed him then, cutting him off entirely, and pressed herself against him for added measure. Clearly the daring excitement was Astoria's forte, and who was he to deny her of her wishes?

Astoria pulled away just enough to gaze up at him through her lashes. "Who said we couldn't make them uncomfortable?"

He smirked at her, knowing that she intended to be just as daring with her passion as he knew she could be. Astoria knew how to fight dirty.


	20. Toxic Euphoria (Luna-Theo-Draco)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments)**

 **Summary:** Luna was always drawn to the freedom of the nightclub life, but it was erasing her as a person. Now having a more stable life being with Theo and Draco, she thought inviting them into her old life was going to be harmless… Muggle!AU

 **Rated T**

 **Genre:** General

 **Warning:** Mentions of drug use with/without consent, and overdosing.

* * *

 **Toxic Euphoria**

Luna insisted that the three of them check out the new nightclub her best friend Ginny recently opened out in the city; The Holyhead Harpies. She always liked how the clubbing atmosphere allowed her to just let loose and get lost in being herself, and it had been a while since she had gone to one.

Having Draco and Theo in her life to face the world was a much more appealing – and healthy – option to fill in the need to be herself. Society was not the kindest to the unique, but Luna refused to conform to the mold, going so far as getting addicted to the euphoric feeling that the club life offered. She only realized how damaging her nightlife activities were erasing her after she had found her boys – or rather they found her – when they intervened with an unpleasant encounter Luna found herself in at a bar. After being drugged without her consent, Luna shied away from the environment.

But she was stable and happy with her life now, she knew her limits, so what was the harm in going out for some innocent fun with the loves of her life?

Despite staying clean for almost two years, Luna still fell into the recreational drug that always enhanced the experience. What made it even worse was she kept it from Theo and Draco. After the brief meetup with Ginny who slipped the electric blue pill to her and promised her to gauge the atmosphere for her personally enjoyment, Luna eagerly popped the pill and blended back into the crowd to find her boys.

The heavy beat of the music thrummed deep in her chest as she let it take over the movement of her body. Hands combed through her thick blonde hair as she flowed with the music under the strobing colored lights above that lit up the dark dancefloor, feeling the effects of the drug she took start to take over her senses. The two men she danced in between with soon became her primary focus, shifting her ever moving feet on the dance floor to press her back against Theo's chest. Luna was eager to have them unwind with her. She knew they weren't foreign to the nightlife, either.

" _You hit the dance floor, you make me wish…"_

The closeness they were made every gesture and movement she made around them electrify not only her, but them as well. Some moments grew a little heated as passionate kisses were exchanged and hands re-explored already claimed territory. But then the upbeat techno lyrics started taking Luna over.

Theo was tallest of the trio, making the gesture to reach up and curl her fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Digging in her nails to roughly pull him down for a kiss was a little difficult, but Luna achieved the action by pushing herself up on her toes to make the connection. Taking in the sweet taste of his lips, she offered a coy smile before twirling away from his hold like a ballerina to hone in on Draco. The beat dropped low and heavy when she approached the blond – who's hair changed dramatically in the lights above. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she moved to the rhythm of the music, synchronizing with Draco's body as she pressed against him and offered a crude bite to his shoulder.

" _Push up to my body. Sink your teeth into my flesh…"_

It was like she absorbed the very words to the music to drive her actions.

Approaching from behind her, Theo attempted to pull Luna from the blond, but instead she clung back onto the taller, lankier wizard with a wild look in her eyes. Even in the lowlight, Draco and Theo could tell she was not acting normal. The melodic laugh escaped Luna as she slipped away from them, the suggestive look in her eye taunted them to chase her.

Luna vanished in the crowd in a dancing frency then, having Draco and Theo exchange a concerned look before going after her. They were positive at this point that she was under the influence, and after realizing it, the pair were going to kick themselves for weeks on not thinking this good idea through properly. How could they be so ignorant to bring an addict to the source of her addiction?

Draco found her at the bar, leaning over the counter while the mixologist placed a glow stick flower crown on her head while whispering in her ear. The sight set him on edge. Luna giggled uncontrollably when Draco pulled her away, she swiped the vibrant pink drink as he did so. Her silvery eyes locked with his, ignoring the concern she saw there, she trailed a hand down his jaw before grabbing his chin to pull him into a kiss.

Things went to far when Draco felt her shove something in his mouth with her tongue.

" _You're a poison. And I need the antidote."_

The lyrics boomed from the quiet when Luna pulled back to take a long drink of the alcoholic beverage. Most of it spilled when Theo came and swept her up in his arms when she started to collapse. Draco managed to catch her a beat before Theo had, the several seconds it took for him to spit out the little pill she slipped him distracted him.

Luna clung to Theo as the three vacaded the club. She felt her world spin uncontrollably, and when the cool air hit her face once they got outside, she saw the darkness ebb the corner of her eyes and knew she had made a terrible mistake. Nuzzling her nose against Theo as an arm grew slack around his neck, she mumbled an apology for dragging them into her dark past before blacking out.

* * *

 **Moresome May:** 27\. Action: Dancing

 **Creature Feature:** 6\. Abere: (setting) dance club. || 2. Abada: (dialogue): "You're a poison. And I need the antidote."

 **Lyric Alley:** 19\. Dancing on tiptoes

 **Insane House Challenge:** 501\. [Action] Dancing

 **365 Challenge:** 211\. [Plot Point] Dancing Together

 **Film Festival:** 4\. [Setting] Bar/Nightclub. || 27. [Word] Positive

 **Scavenger Hunt - Prompt Set 2:** [Character] Luna Lovegood, [Action] Dancing [Object] flower crown.

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 976


	21. Forever (Luna-Theo-Draco)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments)**

 **Summary:** Forever doesn't last, but trying never hurt.

 **Genre:** General

 **Rated K**

* * *

 **Forever**

Nothing ever could last forever, they all three knew, but it didn't stop them from trying to immortalize every moment they shared. They all kept busy with their own respective jobs, and it often kept them apart, but it made the time they did spend together that much more special.

Even as the roses that Draco would bring home as a just because gift for Theo and Luna had long shriveled and died, soon to be replaced with their relatives. The symbolic nature of their significance never dulled.

Luna was gone the most out of the three, leaving Theo and Draco to their own company to pass the time, they didn't mind. They understood the importance of Luna's passion in her work and study of creatures. Sometimes it kept her from them for weeks, even months. Upon her return, they always showered her with affection, wishing to reinforce her sense of belonging with them and that they hadn't forgotten about her.

It was a magnificent feeling to welcome her back, as if they were re-experiencing their introduction with her all over again. Her simple grace and beauty gracing the could shatter the fabric of their reality, and neither of them ever cared to notice time slipping away in the heat of the moment.

The love that they shared only grew with each encounter, their want for each other never faltered, a need they could never do without. And as the time ticked on, forever aging their love like a delicious wine they never could run out of. Always drinking from it and welcoming the shift they could make their reality move when they wanted to, even to the point where it would crumble into nothingness.

Never has any of them felt like they didn't belong. They all shared an equal love, the gentle touch of comfort, a knowing that the three of them, no matter what trepidations they faced, would never falter.

* * *

 **Moresome May:** 17\. Word: Belong

 **Shannon's Showcase - 5. Belarus:**

Title: Forever

Word: Magnificent

Lyric: "My reality seems to break apart with her arrival."

Item: Rose

Theme: Love

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 322


	22. Quidditch & Runespoors (Luna-Draco-Theo)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments)**

 **Summary:** Luna knows what her boys like, and they still love her even if she unknowingly embarrasses them in front of war heroines.

 **Genre:** General

 **Rated K**

* * *

 ** **Quidditch and Runespoors****

"I got us some Quidditch tickets for this weekend. Would you like to come with me?" Luna announced over dinner, knowing that Theo and Draco wouldn't miss the opportunity to see a match even if the sport wasn't really her forte.

"You know me too well." Draco smirked despite himself. "Who's playing?"

"Does it matter? We haven't seen a Quidditch game in a while!" Theo pointed out.

"I am not really sure. Here." She went and retrieved the tickets from her bag and laid them out on the table. "I am not much into the sport, but I'd like to support my friends."

Theo and Draco read the information inscribed on the tickets, not paying attention to Luna mentioning a friend was on one of the teams. "Holyhead Harpies versus the Wigtown Wanderers. A decent matchup, I say," Theo reasoned. "I'm game."

Draco snorted at the comment. "The Wanderers have it in the bag already."

"How do you know?"

"Their stats. Wanderers Seeker is far more superior to the Harpies," Draco pointed out.

Theo gave a light shake of his head. "Yes, but the Harpies have pretty damn good Chasers to make up for it."

Luna quietly listened to their exchange before jumping in on the mention of Chasers. "That's what Ginny is."

"Ginny Weasley? A chaser for the Harpies?" Draco tried to conceal his somewhat impressed expression.

Theo caught onto Draco's hidden concern. "Blimey, she's going to kick arse then."

"I'm glad you want to come. I didn't want to go alone." Luna smiled at the two wizards. "Ginny gave me the tickets and said it was going to be her very first game. I didn't want to let her down by missing it."

Draco grabbed her hand and brushed his thumb over her knuckles. Theo got up and gave her a half hug before heading down the hall.

"It's a date."

 **.oOo.**

"Merlin, these seats are amazing!" Draco couldn't conceal his enthusiasm now that they were at the Quidditch Pitch.

It had been some time since he saw a Quidditch match. Theo didn't quite share the same excitement as Draco, instead he stayed beside Luna and watched Draco check out the view of the booth.

"You sure know how to please a man, love." Theo half-whispered, pulling her close to him, he gave her a peck on the side of her temple.

"It's no trouble. I enjoy being apart of your interests and knew that this was one of them," Luna acknowledged, glad to see him out of his funk.

Draco approached and gave her a tight hug. "Thank you. This is amazing.

"Now, which team was Weasley playing on, again?" Draco checked the ticket to see if there was a team list on them.

"Harpies. Why?"

The grey in his eyes held a warmth to him when he looked back at her, a smile playing his lips. "So I know who to bet against."

"Draco, love. Bet on the Wanderers if you dare, but we both know the Harpies are going to win," Theo challenged, releasing Luna to drape an arm over Draco's shoulders.

"Well, let's see what our tiebreaker says," Draco said.

The two glanced over to Luna, who was busy taking in the field with that drifty air about her. "Who are you rooting for, love?"

"Hmm?" Luna turned to face them, processing the question. "Ah, the Holyhead Harpies of course."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You know she was going to pick them. So the poll is inconclusive."

"We will see."

Theo smirked mischievously in that moment, and Luna knew that, even from the short distance she was from them, the look in his hazel eyes said he was going to place a bet he knew would have the best payout. He looked to her for a silent approval. Luna's eyes seemed to light up at the unspoken suggestion, so she gave Theo a nod.

"I'll tell you what, Draco: If the Wanderers win, Luna and I will do that one thing you _really_ like. Deal?"

Draco's cheeks flushed a little at the extra bet, trying to figure out their angle. "And if you two win?"

Luna chimed in in that moment. "I suppose that we would have to find out. But wouldn't we all win, anyway?"

The wink she gave them left them both slightly flustered. Thankfully the teams stepped out on the field for their warm up, throwing all the naughty thoughts to the back of their minds for the time being.

Until Harry entered.

"Ah, Luna you made it." He gave her a brief hug. "Ginny will be thrilled."

Noticing Theo and Draco sitting beside her, Harry lightly rubbed the back of his head. "Long time no see, Malfoy, Nott. I take it you're Luna's plus twos?"

Theo smirked wickedly at the comment. "Something like that."

Luna placed a hand on his forearm to subdue him.

Harry sat down, still taking in the trio next to him. "Wrangling snakes, now, Luna?"

"I haven't lately, no. Runespoors are rather a tricky sort to capture, especially if you have all three heads fixated on you," Luna recalled.

Draco stifled a laugh, as did Theo, who curled a hand in hers as she continued to speak.

"But I would love to observe them," she continued. "They are not well documented. It's a shame you can't talk to them anymore. Parselmouths were the ones who recorded most of the research on them, so it would've been nice to have one available."

"Well now you have her on a spiel about Runespoors, Potter," Draco dropped in, finally addressing the awkward giant in the room. "I found the joke was rather amusing, myself."

Harry adjusted his glasses and smiled. "Well, at least someone other than me did."

"Bet you two-hundred your Weasley loses."

"You sure about that, Draco?" Theo leaned over to whisper. "I would rather not have to deal with your moping once you lose."

"The game is about the start," Luna declared.

Harry reached over and held out his hand to Draco. "You've got a bet, Malfoy."

 **.oOo.**

"I told you the Harpies were going to kick arse, love. Why did you not believe me?" Theo jabbed at a disappointed Draco. He tried to brush his arm away when Theo reached for him. "Awe, don't be a sore loser, mate."

"Shove off. I just lost two-hundred galleons to Potter!" Draco fummed. "I've _never_ lost a bet like that before."

"It was a close game. You should be proud of your team, regardless Draco," Luna offered. "Would it cheer you up if you could meet the team?"

The idea seemed to perk the blond up some. Theo stood up and stretched before wrapping his arm around Draco. "No need to push your luck with Ginny for Draco, Luna. He just takes loss hard."

Luna shrugged some, claiming Draco's other arm to offer comfort. "It's not a bother at all. I'm sure Ginny would love to meet you."

"Doubtful," Draco snapped. "She knows us already, anyway."

"Well, maybe a reintroduction is due."

Despite the protest, Luna led them down to the restricted section of the pitch where the locker rooms were at. Harry was already waiting for Ginny, so the three joined them, making small talk as Draco handed over the galleons he lost on their bet.

Ginny appeared not too long after they arrived, a bright smile lit up Luna's face as she went to give her friend a warm embrace.

"Luna! You made it!" She pulled away and gave her a once over. "I wasn't sure you were going to be back on time to come."

"You know I wouldn't have missed your maiden voyage."

Harry pulled Ginny away from Luna for a second to kiss her hair. "Great win, Ginny."

"Thanks!" Ginny looked Luna over again. "Gosh, you look no different to when I last saw you. In fact, I think you got younger."

"Has it been so long? It must be the new lotion I use," Luna decided.

"You were gone for three months, weren't you?" Harry recalled.

"Oh my gosh, YES! It's been ages!" Ginny squealed, giving Luna another hug. "We got to go out and catch up."

"I'd love to." She turned to her boys. "Are you hungry?"

Ginny gaped at the realization as to who she was speaking to. Luna gestured for them to come over as Ginny didn't let up the shocked expression.

"Wait… You guys all look like you're together." She made a gesture with her hand at the three.

Luna took it as a sign that she didn't know who they were, which was so strange because she was pretty sure she mentioned it in a letter. Harry just quietly chuckled to himself, amusing at the awkward situation Luna placed them in.

"Oh, do you not remember Draco and Theo? I thought I wrote you about it."

Ginny looked like she was slapped in the face. "I think I'd remember a detail like _that,_ Luna." The ginger immediately addressed the boys. "You better be taking very good care of her or there _will_ be hell to pay."

"Typical," Draco grumbled, feeling the fire radiate from Ginny's eyes. "No need to be so hostile, it's not like we tricked her into it or anything."

Ginny snorted. "Well that's good to know."

"Weasley. Pleasure to meet you again," Theo retorted. "You play a great game."

"Thank you," Ginny said slowly, scrutinizing the pair before looking back at Luna. Dropping her voice so they couldn't hear. "If you really are being held hostage, blink twice."

Luna was appreciative of her friends concern. "I assure you, Ginny, they treat me quite well."

"So, how long has this been going on, Luna?" Harry wished to pull Ginny away from her train of thought.

"There you are! I thought your changing room was on the other side!" another all too familiar voice bellowed down the hall.

"Oh Merlin, please _no,_ " Draco groaned, burying his face in Luna's hair. "Take me home."

"Easy there, love." Theo leaned into the two some so that Luna picked up the whisper. "Play nice and we can get more Quidditch tickets."

Ron froze in his tracks as he saw the unusual group clustered together in front of him. He pulled a disturbing face, before it morphed into complete confusion. He gave Ginny a questionable look, which was only answered with a shrug and a grin.

* * *

 **Moresome May - 15.** Scenario: The triad aren't hiding their relationship but others think they're just really good friends. Until someone says "You guys all look like you're together."

 **Showtime - The Sewers:** (plot point) Running into an old rival/enemy

 **Count Your Buttons:** [Dialogue] "You know me too well."

 **Lyric Alley:** 9\. It was all so strange

 **Emy's Emporium -** **Kublai Khan:** write about a reconciliation between enemies

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 1,736


	23. LL Greyson (Theo-Draco-Luna)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments)**

 **Summary:** Luna has a very interesting job that she layers with two other ones, the deception of the work is what makes it so thrilling

 **Genre:** General

 **Rating K+**

* * *

 **L.L. Greyson**

Luna Lovegood's work schedule was never very predictable, especially when she dedicated herself to work two jobs even though Draco and Theo kept telling her that she didn't have to and shouldn't overwork herself like she did at the end of every month. They had given up the futile attempt after a while, and instead helped her unwind when they knew it was time for her need to work until she collapsed.

This time, though, the two wizards noticed that Luna's schedule stretched out over the entire month of June. She would get home past midnight most nights, sometimes she didn't come through the door until the sun came up. Luna would sleep for a few hours, grab coffee, smile softly at them as she waved goodbye to head back for work.

"The Ministry is keeping me very busy," Luna would claim, stating that the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had a minor disaster with their records and she volunteered to salvage and sort them. "I'm learning a lot about what they shouldn't be doing, and what creatures that need some updating. It's quite fun!"

"It's quite insane," Draco snapped. "They're working you into the ground and you're letting them."

"I don't mind it. It's my job." Luna tried her best to assure them both that she was really alright with it. "I can handle it, really."

She would also help her father with _The Quibbler_ every month. She gathered information and ads to publish in it, as well as helped design the layout for the month, create the intriguing puzzles and riddles – which Theo and Draco enjoyed decoding when Luna wasn't looking – print the sample for review, and finally manufactured the one-thousand copies for the public. Sometimes Theo would contribute something interesting to it about a new order of ingredients and wand cores he got in and what their purposes were, and Draco reluctantly agreed to be anonymously interviewed after Luna discovered he was the one who donated a large sum of galleons to the Orphan and Single-Parent Relief Foundation Harry orchestrated.

They even gave up trying to decipher the strange writing they found on several piles of parchment Luna left on the desk in their dedicated office space. Theo spent weeks researching old runic scriptures from other languages to try and match them to it so they could figure out what it was, but came up with nothing. When Theo couldn't keep his curiosity at bay, he asked Luna about it.

"What is this gibberish?"

Luna took the parchment and looked at it. "Oh, you found my notes."

"Notes?!" Theo gave a little shake of his head. "What? How?"

"It's a special writing I made up. Don't worry about it. Thank you for finding it." Luna gave him a peck on the cheek and skipped into the office.

After an entire month passed of worrying her boys about her overbooked work schedule, Luna made sure to get home before dinner for a change. Curling up on the couch after having a delicious meal, the witch slowly thumbed through the sample of July's _Quibbler_ , turning the magazine in all sorts of directions to make sure everything was just where it needed to be.

"Another successful issue, love?" Theo inquired as he occupied the space beside her.

He leaned into her some to take a peek, but she had the magazine sideways so reading anything was moot for the moment. "I never did understand the format. It _is_ intentional, right?"

"Yes. It keeps the mind sharp if the information is not entirely written in a linear way."

"I love you, Luna, but I will never pretend to get _The Quibbler_ and your method of choice to create it," Draco admitted, standing behind her and the couch.

He idly started to thread a large chunk of hair into a braid as he skimmed the magazine from a slightly better angle than Theo had. It was in this moment when Draco spotted the ad for a new book release and first time ever book signing event from L.L. Greyson. This mysterious unknown author broke sale records out of nowhere one day when their first book was published.

Without hesitation, Draco grabbed _The Quibbler_ from Luna and flipped the magazine upside-down so he could take a better look at the ad. "Theo!" He shouted, not tearing his eyes off the pages as he eagerly smacked the side of the dark-haired wizards head. "Greyson is publishing a new book! Look!"

Shoving the page into Theo's face, Luna was still recovering from having the sample taken from her. "That was quite rude, Draco."

She chided as Theo grabbed the magazine and shot a glare Draco's way. "Shite, mate. Could you be more careless?" he snapped seconds after Luna spoke, glancing at the advertisement that had Draco all worked up.

Luna looked dreamily between the two, having one of her secretive smiles on her face. "You two read Greyson's work?"

"Who doesn't anymore, really?" Theo muttered, offering _The Quibbler_ back to Luna.

"Of course! Who doesn't?" Draco cut in. "His writing is remarkable!

"I never would have thought someone could write a murder mystery that could mix the right of suspense and romance in and still leave you wondering what is going to happen," Draco continued his eager praise no one asked him to for. "It's like a gourmet three-course meal, but you aren't sure what you're going to get until it's served. The romance could be a ploy, or it could be genuine. And you never know who the killer is until the last what? Fifty pages? It's bloody intense!"

"Calm down there, love." Theo stretched his arm behind Luna to pat Draco's shoulder. "You're gushy crush for him is showing."

Luna thumbed through her sample issue as she listened. "She."

Draco moved around the couch and sat down beside Theo. They both looked directly at her at the comment. "She, what?"

"L.L. Greyson is a woman," Luna clarified without missing a beat, turning the page and cocking the magazine some. "You didn't know? You seem to know a lot about her otherwise."

Theo laughed at the gentle poking Luna sent Draco's wave. Smiling to herself, she turned back to the ad and read it outloud.

"The chilling story continues in Greyson's latest, and final, novel _Murder in Her Eyes._ Will the unravelling of the murderer be brought to justice? Has Alia discovered the message in the killing patterns, or has her feelings got in the way? Find out Friday, 15th of October during and exclusive released party at Flourish & Blotts, where you can experience the opportunity to meet the author in her first ever book signing! Tickets available now!"

"Merlin, that's in two weeks!" Draco realized suddenly, getting to his feet. "We have to get tickets!"

Theo jumped up, eager to head out right now. "We definitely should get a jump on it. Care to join us, Luna?" He offered her a hand.

She smiled up at the two, accepting Theo's hand and got up to join them. "Of course. Though I am not sure I can attend the actual signing."

"Why not? Just take a personal day." Draco grabbed for a cloak, offering to Luna before grabbing Theo's and his own. "You need to take time for you for a change, Luna."

"Draco has a point, love. You work too much." Theo tacked on, giving her a half hug. "We have hardly seen you lately."

Luna worried her lip as she slipped on the cloak, losing herself in thought. She did indeed work a lot, with managing _The Quibbler_ and all the field work she has been doing. There were so many poorly recorded creatures out there, and now that she was sorting the archives she volunteered to do, her field research was going to increase dramatically. If they knew about her side job, well, Luna wasn't sure exactly how they would react to that new information.

Despite their concerns of her being overworked, she really did love her jobs. They knew what they were competing with when the three made their housemate arrangement into a more established relationship.

"I could say the same to you two." Luna gave Draco a little nudge. "You both are just as obsessed with your own jobs as I am."

Theo laughed at her tossback. "She got us there."

"Yeah, but…" Draco just huffed away the rest of the comment.

 **.oOo.**

Draco threw himself on the couch to sulk and Theo joined him, half laying on top of him as he slid down the back couch cushions. "Well that certainly put a damper on the rest of the month."

Theo gently nuzzled Draco's neck, seeking comfort before Draco shifted slightly to get more comfortable. "You're telling me."

Flourish and Blotts had sold out the tickets as fast as the announcement was made. The two had no idea how they missed out, figuring seeing the sneak peek edition of _The Quibbler_ gave them the upper hand. Luna put their cloaks away, feeling a little sorry for their reaction at the lack of obtaining the tickets. She went to put the kettle one and ventured into their shared office while the pair sulked and cuddled on the couch.

Pulling some files and piles of parchment from her bag, Luna made sure they were properly sorted before she pressed her hand against one of the cabinet drawers. Her magical signature unlocked it and she tucked the confidential documents inside. She had to have a special secret compartment for her work since she often worked with very sensitive material on rare and endangered species. After putting her work away, Luna pulled three tickets for the Greyson signing from her bag, knowing that they would be a great treat to pair with some tea to help cheer her boys up.

Tucking the tickets in her pocket, Luna returned to the kitchen to stop the whistling kettle that was clearly being ignored. She half wondered if Theo and Draco fell asleep as she prepped them all tea, but after a quick glance across the room, Luna raw that they were instead just busying themselves with each other.

"Tea, anyone?" She announced, waiting a few seconds before entering the living room. "To help wash away the woes of disappointment, perhaps?"

She didn't mind offering them a few minutes of personal privacy. After all, she was the one that integrated herself in with them once upon a time. She didn't want to always be the one to monopolize their time, but they seemed to spend a great deal of it wanting to win her gentle and warm affections anyway. Luna was sure it had something to do with not seeing her as often, but like she told them before, her work was her life, and it was going to take large chunks of time away from them.

Theo sat upright as Luna came in, fixing his disheveled appearance before smirking lovingly at her as he accepted his cup. "Thank you love. Just what I needed."

She smiled lightly back, combing her hand through his tousled hair before looking at an even more ravished Draco. "You alright?"

Draco let out a very content hum, not even opening his eyes when she sat his mug down on the end table and placed a kiss on his forehead. "I'm terribly sorry about the tickets."

A unified sigh escaped the pair. Theo brushed it off with a shrug while Draco simply sighed a second time.

"Nothing to be sorry for, love," Theo assured. "We just weren't quick enough."

"You have such little faith in me, Theo," Draco cut in, nudging him in the side with a foot. "I have my connections, I bet you I can have three tickets by tomorrow if I pull enough strings."

"Well, it is quite fortunate for you two that you do have connections with someone in the publishing business." Luna's eyes sparked that mischievous twinkle Theo had picked up on when she had a secret for them.

This warranted Draco to open one eye to investigate. "What are you saying, Luna?"

"It just so happens my father just owled me these." Luna pulled the three tickets from her pocket then, spreading them out on the coffee table in front of the two.

"What?!"

Draco lurched upright so fast he toppled off the couch in the meantime, causing Theo to nearly spill his beverage. "Ah! Warning me next time you git!"

Draco collected them in his hands, needing to make sure they were genuine. "They're real!"

Luna seemed a little bewildered at the comment, but she still found their reaction quite cute as Theo quickly secured his mug on a table before reaching for one to see for himself. "I'd certainly hope they would be. My father isn't a counterfeiter, he actually knows Greyson personally."

"No way! Why would you keep that information from us?" Theo demanded, finding the guarded secret a bit blasphemous coming from Luna of all people.

Luna shrugged, not thinking much of it. "I didn't know you two liked her, so the knowledge of my father knowing the author was never brought to conversation until now."

The witch barely had any time to process the chain of events that unleashed seconds later. Draco all but tackled her to the floor in a tight hug, and Theo helped keep her upright only to give his own firm hug from behind her.

"Have I told you how much I love you, Luna?" Draco whispered in her ear before splashing soft kisses to her temple.

"You just did." She stroked the soft platinum blond hair before Theo freed her from Draco's vice grip.

"Give the poor girl some air, Draco."

"I'm alright, I am just happy to know you liked the surprise," Luna said, beaming with satisfaction.

Theo lead her to the couch where she could enjoy her tea, but he made a point to press his side close to hers and drape an arm around her as Draco plopped back down on the other side.

"Thank you, love. You have no idea how thrilled we are to meet this author. She really is an amazing writer." Theo offered her an affectionate kiss before pulling a strand of hair from her face. "Truly, we are forever in your debt at this point."

She giggled at the thought, find the kiss warming her more than the sip of tea that she just took. "Well, Greyson will be happy to know you enjoy her work, so be sure to tell her when you see her."

Draco had that look in his eye as he nuzzled up to Luna's other side, feeling a little extra possessive as well. "I could ravish you for days."

"I certainly won't object to your thank yous," Luna coyly suggested, "but it is dinner time and I am famished."

"I can order takeaway?" Theo offered, quickly getting to work on the task.

"While he busies himself with that mess, I'll happily sit her and cuddle you," Draco concluded.

Luna pressed her palms against Draco's chest, feeling the gentle nibbles he wished to make. "Calm yourself, my Dragon." She ran a hand up into his hair, pulling back some so she could meet his gaze. "Supper first."

"If you insist."

 **.oOo.**

Theo and Draco stood first in line just outside Flourish and Blotts bookstore. The rain had picked up quite aggressively an hour ago and showed no signs of letting up as it poured over the line of people waiting for their book signing. The pair were one of many who huddled close and under their magic-conjured umbrellas to ward off most of the rain. The splash up was the real problem as it started to soak their legs.

"Luna is so later. She's going to miss this."

"Relax, Draco. She never made any promises to actually come, this was mostly meant for us, remember?" Theo reasoned, adjusting the overfilled bookbag on his shoulder. "Also, why did we have to bring both of our collection to this signing again? It's going to cost a fortune to get her to do them all."

"So? This is her only book signing! The sticker on the book even says 'Greysons final work!' on it," Draco retorted. "Honestly, are you even an actual fan?"

Theo only smirked at the jab, deciding to busy himself by checking out the long line behind him. "Well, the rain certainly didn't stop the others from coming, either."

The line seemed to stretch all the way around the corner of Diagon Alley. Draco shivered then, huddling himself even closer to Theo so he could be protected under the umbrella. He needed to recast the warming charm, and that meant to cancel the active umbrella charm.

"Do you wonder how Luna did it?"

"Did what?"

"Get the tickets," Draco clarified, pulling his from a pocket. "I mean, it seems awfully convenient don't you think?"

Theo shrugged, not too terribly worried about it. "Maybe she pried from the corpse of the person she killed. Based on how hush hush her Ministry work is, do you really think all her creatures aren't really just targets?"

He laughed with Draco elbowed his side. "I doubt Luna is a hitwizard. If anything, she's an Unspeakable."

"That actually is more likely, I suppose."

Draco pulled the pocket watch and watched the clock tick away the seconds. "It's almost midnight. I really wish Luna was here."

"Am I warm enough for you?" Theo mock pouted, pulling Draco even closer to him to plant a kiss on him.

"Ah, there you two are. I was beginning to think you'd already gone in." Xenophilius appeared from nowhere beside them, causing the two to jump apart. "My clock must be off. How are you? Treating my Luna well, I hope?"

Theo recovered from the startlement of his arrival, clearing his throat. "Mr. Lovegood, you're just in time, actually."

"And Luna is in good hands, sir," Draco responded. "It's her work that should be concerning you. She's been working herself into exhaustion."

"Ah yes. She does love her work. But she tells me that your activities don't help with that, either," Xenophilius stated absentmindedly, causing the pair to blush despite themselves. "One of you submitted an inquiry to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in regards to creatures and what humane ways were needed to be implemented in order to obtain certain materials and ingredients. That is quite the task you placed on her."

Feeling a tad less embarrassed by his statement, Draco piped up. "I didn't mean for it to go directly to her. She insisted on taking it. I thought a team of people were going to be put on it."

"So, you're a fan of Gresyons work as well, Mr. Lovegood?" Theo inquired, wishing to steer the conversation away from the dull work talk.

"I'm more of a fan of the person," he said, smiling. "She's a big creature activist."

"That's impressive." Theo turned to Draco. "Bet you didn't know that, did you?"

Draco just rolled his eyes and checked his watch again. The windows lit up then and he snapped his attention to see someone slowly approaching the door. A strange noise escaped Draco as he vice gripped Theo's arm. "Theo! It's happening! It's really happening!"

The hold he had on his arm was causing Theo's arm to tingle. He pulled Draco away from the window, forcing him to look into his eyes by cupping his hands over his face. "Hey, can you calm down? Take a breath? I don't need you to pass out, okay?"

Draco did what was asked of him, feeling the calm wash over his jittery nerves.

"I'm sorry I just… what if I faint in front of her? That'd be utterly mortifying." Draco's anxiety kicked up again at the thought.

"Well then, I'll have an amusing story to tell Luna." Theo smirked, giving Draco a chaste kiss. "You good now?"

Draco closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. "Yeah."

The ever-present man lingering nearby them took the liberty to cast the umbrella charm for them all to stand under since the two neglected their own during their moment.

"Better dry off, they're opening the door," Xenophilius pointed out.

He pulled a clan piece of parchment from his pocket as the lady approached and unlocked the door. Theo and Draco quickly dried their clothes and were flagged in by the woman. "You are the first three allowed. Come in! Welcome!"

The three stepped through the threshold, and Theo could practically hear the thrumming of Draco's heart as they were lead to the back of the store. He gripped Theo's hand so tightly he was losing feeling again, who would have thought the blond was so addicted to an author to express so much unusual exceitement?

"What should I have her sign first?" Draco rambled out.

"I'll hazard a guess to get the new book done?" Theo quipped back.

They rounded a corner and the two stopped dead in their tracks. Xenophilius casually weaved by them and approached his daughter who was sitting behind the desk, books piled high on either side and on the floor around her. Luna's face lit up at seeing them, and stood up to embrace her father.

"My moonbeam! Congratulations on the new book. It is such an achievement," he praised, kissing the top of her head before offering her the parchment.

"Thank you, papa." Luna took the parchment and scribbled her loopy pseudo named signature on it with a date and book title. "I couldn't have got this far without you. And thank you for keeping them company while they waited."

"Of course, sweetheart. It was no trouble at all." Xenophilius gave Luna another hug and quietly departed.

She smiled, turning her gaze over to the pair who were rooted in place by the entrance. "Were you two wanting an autograph?"

"You're Greyson—"

"—You wrote these—"

"—Why the secrets?"

"—You sly witch."

The two kept talking over each other once they found their voices, unable to fully grasp the fact that Luna was the one that wrote the books they so enjoyed reading at home, right in front of her, and she said nothing to them about it.

Luna giggled some at the reaction. Putting on her best professional stance, she addressed the two properly. "Miss Greyson will see you now."

She allowed a light finger to slide down each of their jawlines. The suggestive implications left both their heads swimming as they followed her back to the desk to accept their autographs. As she signed the new book, she glanced at the two still baffled faces looking back.

"Any questions, my loves?"

"Oh I've got loads," Draco stated as he accepted his book. "But I am a patient man, _Miss Greyson._ "

"I have one: Why the secret?" Theo was genuinely curious. She successfully pulled one over on them, and he was impressed.

"Well," Luna began, folding her hands together as she though. "I thought it'd be fun to try, but I didn't want anyone to know it was me because… I'm me."

"But we can keep a secret. And we wouldn't want you any other way," Theo attempted to reason. Hoping the assurance would help.

"I know, and trust me when I say I am grateful for it." Luna gave them each a peck on the cheek before she eyed the bag apprehensively. "If you want me to sign everything in that, it will be two-hundred and fifty galleons."

"What if I give you a free pass this time and you sign them all at home?" Draco countered, smirking at the genius offer.

"But," Theo held up a hand before any deal could be made. "You cannot use that greeting line on _anyone_ else."

Luna pretended to think for a moment before giving a nod. "I think I can manage that."

* * *

Moresome May: 8. AU: Writer!AU

365 Challenge: 179. [Job] Writer

Insane House Challenge: 213. Author!AU

Film Festival: 19. [Emotion] Nervous || 35. [Dialogue] "Can you calm down? Take a breath?"

Word Count: (Per Google Docs) 3,995


	24. The Disease Chamber (Unspeakables)

**Author's** **Note:** Because I am a weirdo, I gave Unspeakable serial numbers they go by rather than names. U.D.C. #1-3 = Unspeakable Disease Chamber #1-3. Yeah, uncreative, but I couldn't think of names, so while writing, I just used this. And it stuck. :p

 **Summary:** When a deadly outbreak of Dragon Pox plagues the UK, the three Unspeakables stations in the Disease Chamber in the Department of Mysteries work tirelessly to find a way to take the current cure for the sickness and, not only enhance it further, but modify it in order to make all of magic-kind immune to the Pox once and for all.

 **Rated:** T

 **Genre:** General

* * *

 **The Disease Chamber**

 _May, 2020_

Like any established form of government, the Ministry of Magic had several departments among it. Each one had a sub-department and specific role to run and manage in order to keep all the intricate workings of civilized life to keep it running smoothly and efficiently. This was, at the very least, always the goal.

Most departments were public knowledge and their purpose was made clear to the public. All but the Department of Mysteries was just that - mysterious, secretive, and virtually invisible. Its main purpose was unknown, even the Minister for Magic himself knew very little of its inner workings and uses. Keeping its studies and research that occurred among the various chambers quiet made it easier to keep their complex natures of how they worked within the threads of magic itself from being questioned.

The general public had no need to know how space held an important key to the roots of their magic, how minds could be unlocked and expanded to learning a new level of knowledge beyond a human's evolution, or how death or love could greatly affect ones very magic core and how potent and dangerous it could make someone. Natural discovery was needed for these things, and it was a great burden to carry when one accepts the life of an Unspeakable.

All the chambers harbored some frightening things, but the one that offered the most useful findings to the public was the Disease Chamber. It was not only a storage of countless diseases of both Muggle and Magical ailments that have terrorized the world, it also was where the cure and antidote formulas were developed and tested. Some had been eradicated since the early days of the Wizard's Council existence, others still reared their ugly heads in modern times. This chamber was also the very same place where cures and antidotes were created to combat and control them when needed.

It was all done and made for the sake of education, research, and study. The three Unspeakables stationed in this room all worked in solitary, recording new notes with their colleagues, testing new cures, and further perfecting the old.

This was their purpose; to unravel the mystery of sickness and its impact on the world.

So when an astounding outbreak of Dragon Pox struck the United Kingdom with its worst strain imaginable to date, the three Unspeakables of the Disease Chamber were immediately summoned by their superior, The Keeper of Mysteries.

Her expression was grim, mixed with fear and determination as she watched the three enter and take their seats.

"There is a problem on the outside," the woman's tone was crisp, enhancing her already serious attitude. "A devastating outbreak of Dragon Pox has been reported. St. Mungo's has recorded at least a dozen cases so far, some are in critical condition."

She pulled the dark grey sleeves up to expose her hands and wrists, folding them in front of her as she continued. "The Minister has expressed a great urgency to rectify this terrible epidemic before it spreads any further. It is already being difficult to contain, and we are in charge of finding a way to stop it before it infects the entire wizarding world."

"The cure is not helping?" one of the Unspeakables questioned.

The Keeper shifted her icy gaze to the speaker. "The issue isn't the cure, U.D.C. #1. This particular strain is highly contagious, and appears to continue to spread even after quarantine of the sick has been implicated and the cure has been given. If this continues, then we need to find a way to protect the healthy, and find a more effective cure to stop the window of contagiousness before the numbers rise."

"So this is a new mutation. Or, as you have been calling it, a strain of Dragon Pox. We will need fresh samples then," the third Unspeakable stated, scribbling notes as she spoke.

"I have assured Minister Shacklebolt that we are more than capable of creating a more diluted version of the Dragon Pox cure that will render the disease harmless to the healthy population without them falling ill from it. There absolutely cannot be any symptoms of the virus surfacing from that concoction." The Keeper watched as the three scribbled away on parchment. Clearing her throat, they silenced their quills and gave their superior their full attention.

"We will also need to further improve the current cure in order to restrain this newer strain. I'm sure that will not be too difficult?"

The Unspeakable in the center waved her hand in front of her, signaling to ask a question. "Yes?"

"The cure will be far easier to enhance, but this diluted version that you speak of… it will take time. How much of it are we going to be given?"

"Time will not be your friend, U.D.C. #3. There have already been two confirmed casualties within days of this epidemic. It is best to keep those numbers as low as possible."

"You truly believe we are capable?" the third challenged, clearly unsure about the task. "We have been studying Dragon Pox off and on for decades and have offered very little improvement on the current effects of the cure. How are we to create a new – as well as an alternative – when we are unsure how the illness has mutated?"

The Keeper raised her chin at hearing such doubt. "I'm confident in your abilities. We are also being funded by a very important corporation that wishes to remain anonymous to aid in accelerating us to the end results. You three need to give yourselves more credit, I have monitored your notes and am aware you are on the verge of a breakthrough. I will provide you with new living samples to work with, but I ask that you do not start from scratch. Continue with what you're doing and implement the new strain into your work."

"Is it safe to assume that this is not a natural infection? That is has more sinister properties behind it?" U.D.C. #1 asked.

It was a valid inquiry based on the limited information provided, and also a very likely conclusion that The Keeper herself wondered. "There has been no official confirmation on its origins, but it has not been ruled out in the Auror department," she offered. "I suggest you focus on your task. Do not allow fear of a possibility hinder your focus on your common goal."

Dark blue eyes slowly shifted between the three Unspeakables. U.D.C. #2 stood before the other two and spoke for the first time since the meeting was called.

"We will not disappoint, Keeper."

 **.oOo.**

 _August 2020_

Over one hundred cases of the Dragon Pox have been recorded throughout the island. Seven of them were from Ireland, and a collective total of twelve casualties have been claimed by the vicious sickness since the first signs of the outbreak. The three Unspeakables worked tirelessly and invisible to the outside world to formulate a new cure, and by extension, an alternative that could safely be given to the healthy population without infecting them.

Their countless recordings of tests and trials had failed, seeming to only escalate the symptoms rather than heal them. This was not the setback they needed, and results were seeming to be a far distant future in this point and time. The Keeper of Mysteries was growing impatient with the team, not only because the Minister for Magic was breathing down her neck on a daily basis – such attention was rare and becoming quite irritating – but her husband had fallen ill to the disease two weeks prior, and was not recovering.

An exhausted U.D.C. #1 switched shifts with U.D.C. #2 on her twelfth hour, barely acknowledging her colleague who was carrying a fishbowl that had a red spotted fish in it. "Good luck, U.D.C. #2… Let us not repeat last week, yeah?"

"Never."

The Unspeakables never used their name. The solitary and very secretive job they took one had their very person virtually erased. It was easier to be referred by and labeled with a badge serial number than have the Department tangle through legal names written on everything. It made it essential for notes and information be detailed and dated in case their badge needed to be matched with a name should a reason was needed. Any poor recording made resulted in immediate termination and obliviation.

U.D.C. #2 placed her fishbowl on her workstation table and conjured a larger tank nearby to place the pigfish inside it. The Unspeakable sighed as she pulled her colleagues notes to flip through.

"I'm sorry to have keep bringing you into work, Piglett. I just feel so bad leaving you alone for so long," the witch rambled on as she set up her cauldron and retrieved all the vials and nick nacks needed to replicate another new brew they started last week. "At the very least you offer me some company, right?"

The pigfish just spit bubbles at its owner before turning around.

Once the station was set up, the Unspeakable carefully read through all the notes left behind. It appeared that U.D.C #3 was onto something, claiming that fish scales showed promising changes, but the type of fish was still being sampled based on how it reacted. U.D.C. #2 decided to start where her colleague left off instead of working another angle.

"It's a good thing this secret corporation is funding this, or we would have come up dry before we even started. Must be a rich pureblood whose precious family is infected, eh Piglett?" the Unspeakable chuckled at her own joke as she quickly got to work on replicating the brew recorded from U.D.C. #3.

After several hours and countless attempts of various fish scales, U.D.C. #2 concluded that they were not exactly what was needed from a fish. The key was there but not the proper component. The hours continued to tick away, and the shift change was approaching. She did not notice her colleagues arrival.

"You brought a fish in here? Is it supposed to be a live test subject?" U.D.C. #3 questioned, examining the fish carefully.

"Test subject? No, it's my pet, Piglett."

"Pigfish are supposed to have interesting properties, I wonder—"

"I'm not killing my fish," U.D.C. #2 snapped back, completing her cleanup.

She went to collect the fish, but somehow it became startled and bolted around before leaping from its tank and right onto a live sample of the Dragon Pox. "No!"

"Not again…" U.D.C. #3 sighed, recalling the recorded incident with the pigfish losing a couple scales in a mortar in last weeks reports that triggered the idea of looking to fish for the answer from #1.

The fish wriggled frantically around the strange solution it fell into before its caretaker carefully collected the creature. It promptly started to grunt in protest before making a strange coughing noise. It spit up a strange colored goo that landed with a splash into a large sample of a recent brew. The Unspeakable quickly placed the fish back in the tank and observed the strange coloration of the experiment change to a marbled white color.

"It looks like a more liquidy version of the—"

"Original cure," U.D.C. #2 finished, grabbing the vial to make a proper comparison to the Original Cure, their Modified cure they managed to successfully complete several weeks ago, and the new brew. They all had slightly different visuals, but were virtually the same. This was a good sign, knowing that they were on the right path to a watered down cure.

 **.oOo.**

 _September 2020_

A mere four weeks had passed since the strange revelation of the pigfish mucus being the ingredient that safely diluted the virus enough that it be safely injected to a healthy person with no ill effects. The three Unspeakables never learned if the mysterious outbreak had sinister motives from a Dark Witch or Wizard, but they did not need to know. Their task was completed, an overwhelming success. Instead of moving forward with a new assignment, the three stood behind The Keeper of Mysteries, appearing uneasy at the formal public service announcement Minister Shacklebolt insisted they attend to be properly honored in front of the community they helped saved.

The epidemic had a grand total of fifteen casualties, and almost a quarter of the wizarding population of the United Kingdom and Ireland had been infected before the enhanced cure was circulated out. Now that the safe alternative was underway to being perfected and safe to distribute to hospitals around the wizarding world, the secret corporation (who still remained anonymous) took the information in order to mass replicate, test, and provide it as a way to hopefully never face such an outbreak of Dragon Pox ever again.

These three Unspeakables, workers who were meant to stay invisible, were heroes to many who did not even know they existed until now, and for the first time ever since the founding of the Department of Mysteries, were being publicly honored.

Minister Shacklebolt seemed surprised at the revealing of the team behind the cures all being women, but it did not deter his choice when he gladly offered them all Order of Merlin First Class medals in front of countless reporters and spectators.

Even being a safe distance from the crowd, the Unspeakables dressed in their grey robes, new badges pinned beside their serial ones, could hear the shouts and questions from all directions.

"Three witches are behind this huge breakthrough?! Amazing!"

"Who would have thought that the hands that worked their incredible magic to make these cures came the delicate hands of women?"

"It was quite obvious that witches were the ones behind the cures. Females are historically capable of harnessing the power of healing from nature."

The shock of the all-woman team that solved a medical crisis would be talk of the world for years to come.

* * *

 **Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **Written for the Terms of Service May 2018 Challenge**

 **Written for QLFC Season 6, Round 1**

 **Team:** Wigtown Wanderers

 **Position:** Chaser 2

 **Position Prompt:** Write a setting you've never written before (Department of Mysteries)

 **Additional Prompts:**

(setting) Department of Mysteries

(word) corporation

(animal) pigfish

 **Terms of Service Fill:** 02

 **Representation(s):** Research & Development in Medicine

 **Bonus Challenge(s):** Tomorrow's Shade; Middle Name; Second Verse (Surprise!)

 **Creature Feature:** 1\. A Bao A Qu: (word) invisible, 7. Abgal: (plot point) someone dealing with a natural disaster (disease)

 **Insane House Challenge:** 749\. [Job] Unspeakable

 **365 Challenge:** 359\. [Word] Repeat

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 2,353

 **Beta(s):** Angel, Ash


	25. A Different Approach (Neville)

**Summary:** A glimpse of Neville's first year had the hat placed him in Hufflepuff.

 **Genre:** General

 **Rated:** K+

* * *

 **A Different Approach**

"Longbottom, Neville!"

His name being called startled Neville from his own mind. The thoughts of uncertainty screamed at him as he hesitantly approached the stool and tattered old hat in front of him. What if the hat decided he had no place among the proper witches and wizards of society? What if his borderline squib status suppressed his magic enough to be considered unharnisable and unable to be refined with teaching control and strengthening its core?

Taking a seat on the stool, Neville closed his eyes to avoid eye contact with his waiting peers in front of him. He felt the fabric slowly fall over his head and face, drowning out what was left of the light piercing his eyelids.

' _Why so scared, my boy?'_ a gentle, but gravely voice uttered in his mind.

' _Please… I just want to know that I am worthy of belonging here.'_

The hat was quiet for what felt like ages, but Neville could feel the pull of its magic filtering through his mind as he researched the young wizards personality and traits. It was starting to make Neville nervous with the prolonged silence, and the fact that a powerful enchanted object was currently reading him like a book was enough to induce an anxiety attack. He just wanted to be apart of the world he grew up, he wanted to make his Gran proud of him, and live up to the bravery his parents showed when they were able-minded.

' _You have a lot of hidden values, but you greatly undermine and undervalue yourself and your abilities,'_ the hat hummed as he continued to rifle through the folds of the boys mind. ' _Though I find so many traits of a Gryffindor in you, just like your parents had in their time, but I believe that you could grow far more effectively placed elsewhere._

' _The heart of a lion needs confidence in order to be properly utilized. I am positive that this strengthening will come from someone who has the ability to nurture and care for delicate things, so rest assured you will be in good hands. Allow your house to build your spirits and harness your strengths. Soon you will be as fierce as the Gryffindor I know you could be. I expect great things from you, Neville.'_

"Hufflepuff!"

The hat was promptly removed before Neville could even think of a response to give. He looked over at the Hufflepuff table that cheered and signaled him forward. Neville sat down with a thud, feeling completely overwhelmed with disbelief as he observed the sea of smiling faces and chorus of introductions. Everyone looked so friendly, carefree, happy, and _confident._ He could only hope that he would be able to feel the same way soon enough, just as the hat told him. But as he surpassed one wave of anxiety of not feeling he belonged, a fresh wave of a new fear drowned him. What if he disappointed the hat and its expectations? Was Hufflepuff an acceptable enough house to honor his family with? What did the hat mean about becoming a Gryffindor?

At least he didn't feel intimidated by the house he was placed in. He wouldn't know what he'd have done if he went anywhere else. Maybe the hat heard his silent pleas to be put there, but he explained his reason so much more than just a simple request.

The common room of the badgers was warm and welcoming. The earthy colors of yellows and browns matched well with the abundances of vegetation that was scattered about the cozy space. Vines spilled over its hanging pots above, nooks that were carved out of the walls to be used as shelves were littered with herbs and flowers, giving the pop of vibrant color needed to balance the tones. It was easy to feel at home here, and if Neville had to choose a house based on their Head of House, he would've gravitated toward Professor Sprout in a heartbeat.

She was always smiling, laughter lines permanently etched her features, and her eyes lit up with every question being asked from her students. Her voice was calm and patient as she aided him in Herbology, even when the plant he was supposed to care for had long since died.

"Are you still watering those dead plants?" she asked him one day after observing Neville carefully pour the shower of water over the browned leaves and soil of two small potted vegetables he was assigned.

He squeaked some, casing the chore to look Professor Sprouts way. "Y-Yes. I don't want to give up hope in it just yet. It is still green at its base stem and…"

She gave a light smile and walked back to her desk, Neville swallowed hard and watched as she left. He wondered if he should move on with a new plant that still appeared alive at this point, at least he'd get half credit if he did that. But something told him that he could salvage his current project, and he was wanting to show everyone that he wasn't completely incompetent at everything.

Professor Sprout came back with a small beaded bag in her hands. "Here, dear. Give this a try. Just a pinch will do."

She offered its contents to Neville, who took a small pinch full of the glitter-looking soil. "What is it?"

"Just sprinkle it into the soil. It will give your plant a little boost in nutrients," she gave him a wink before tucking the beaded bag in a pocket and proceeded to walk down the greenhouse, observing the other students work.

Neville inspected the small pinch of dust he now placed in his palm. It looked nothing more than finely sifted soil, and there didn't seem to be any other magical properties to it. He could use all the help he could take, and it came from a fancy looking bag, so it had to be some secret plant food. If this was Professor Sprouts way of giving him a little nudge in the right direction, then he was going to take it.

Two days ticked by and he was amazed at the improvement of his plant. The leaves were no longer brown, but taking on a more yellow-green tinge. A smile split across Neville's face, even though most of the other students had far greener plants, he was simply glad he didn't give up on his dying ones. He wasn't sure what was causing the vegetable to decline in its health from the start, he followed all instructions carefully, but something deep within told him that this was some sort of test his Head of House placed upon him, challenging him to not give up, to keep trying. The plant was able to be saved just as he strived to achieve, and even if it didn't warrant full marks, Neville could happily say that he went above and beyond to achieve a goal. He worked hard from the very bottom, and growing in countless ways like his project had.

Professor Sprout was close by, observing the plants of the others while marking ticks off on her clipboard. Neville would be thrilled in receiving an Acceptable grade, but the anxiety ate away at him as she approached.

"Ah, Longbottom. I see your assignment has had new life breathed into it," she gave a joyful nod as she scribbled on the parchment. "It's leaves are yellow, but I can see they are still on the strong road to recovery."

"Yes. It was all thanks to you, ma'am."

"Me?" she asked, and that warmth lit up her brown eyes again, showing curiosity.

Neville swallowed, wondering if she'd forgotten. "Ye-yes. That special plant food you offered. It really helped."

Professor Sprout let out a soft chuckle and leaned in close to him. "That rubbish I gave you was just dirt. This was all you, my dear."

She placed her hand at its base, feeling the soil then, leaving Neville dumbfounded as she resumed her grading. "Soil is not too damp or too dry, and the stem is sturdy, meaning it has rooted well. Very good. It isn't drooping as much as it was, either. My, my, you really do have quite the green thumb."

Her cheerful tone was infectious as she beamed at him. Neville couldn't help but blush as he sheepishly replied, "Thank you, Professor."

"Don't lose that motivation."

He gave a nod, feeling quite proud of himself as she moved on. He will find out his ultimate grade tomorrow, but he pushed those thoughts aside, too elated from praise and apparent evidence that he wasn't a failure after all to allow anything negative pull him back down.

Receiving an Exceeds Expectations for it had boosted his confidence even more. He never thought he'd be so adept at gardening, but it seemed to almost be as easy as breathing ever since that first plant-based assignment. Professor Sprout really did offer the encouragement Neville needed to build his self-worth and confidence within himself. Despite struggling in other classes, Neville had vastly improved his charmswork as the year stretched on as well. Professor Flitwick was impressed with such improvement, rewarding him a handful of points to Hufflepuff when he successfully passed two practical tests near the end of term.

Only being partially involved with Harry's recklessness kept him out trouble and focused on his studies. Though he liked being The-Boy-Who-Lived friend, he was a bit eccentric and impulsive, making him a huge stress inducer for Neville. However, he tried to help him whenever asked. He mostly spoke to Hermione when he would study in the library, she was a great study pal and massive help to improving his schoolwork as well.

After his first year, Neville could feel the improvement in himself when he compared to how timid he was at the beginning. He felt more confident in his magic that he could feel it surge through him at times. Even his father's wand responded better to him once he started believing in himself and willing to show his potential more. It was almost like the wand started to slowly accept and bond with Neville's magical signature, a rare thing for most wands to adapt to, but he wasn't going to complain, he wanted to use his father's wand. This produced better spellwork for him than ever before, and it showed in the classrooms. Though its consistency faltered some at times, he knew that it would improve in time and with lots of practice. He could only hope that his Gran would be able to notice a difference in him when he came home for the summer as well.

Neville certainly could.

* * *

 **Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **23rd June 13:00 - Tunisia - AU:** Different House!AU

 **Eagle Day - Hermione Granger:** Different House!AU || [Word] Beaded Bag

 **Count Your Buttons:** Different House!AU, [Word] Encouragement

 **Lyric Alley:** 20\. Life within me that is better than any other

 **Amber's Attic - Come Gangsta:** Write about someone proving themselves.

 **Sophie's Shelf - Josephine Anwhistle:** Write about someone who is anxious about

everything.

 **Lo's Lowdown - Hikaru Sulu:** Write about someone who loves plants.

 **Summer Prompts:** [Word] Gardening

 **Flowers - Marigold:** [Dialogue] "Are you still watering those dead plants?"

 **Gryffindor Themed Prompts:** [Character] Neville Longbottom

 **Shay's Musical Challenge - Joseph & the Technicolor Dreamcoat: **Write about someone

rising up to the top from the bottom.

 **365 Challenge:** 244\. [Relationship] Student & Mentor

 **Insane House Challenge:** 930\. [Relationship] Student & Mentor

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 1,785


	26. Rediscovery (George, Seamus)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **Summary:** George never quite got back into the swing of things after re-opening Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. The muse simply wasn't there anymore, until he was referred to Seamus Finnigan. Refined pyrotech and crafty, he was just the wizard needed to help with the inventive side of the joke shop.

 **Rated:** T

 **Genre:** General

* * *

 **Rediscovery**

Four years had passed since George mustered the courage to re-open Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes. He didn't hold much hope on managing to run the shop alone, and knew it was never going to be the same, but George also knew it was going to be the only way to fully help him move on and retain Fred's memory. Keeping the place operating smoothy was the easy part, keeping up with the inventions and new products was the true struggle for the living twin to push past.

It was difficult to step into the workshop in the back of the store and pull out old formulas and recipes, and even more difficult to try and come up with new ones. How could he execute them with only one mind working on something two minds created? This was the core problem George struggled with – the lack of inspiration and motivation. He just didn't trust anyone else to help him, no matter how much they offered, it wasn't like he didn't appreciate it, it just wasn't ever going to be the same. And if he ever did decide to find someone else to fill that empty space as a second inventor, they would definitely need to know their stuff, and be trustworthy enough to see the projects through the end.

George made sure to write down whatever half-baked idea he did manage to come up with, but never really did much else with them. It wasn't like his shop was lacking in its sales – it was going better than ever in fact – but keeping the merchandise fresh was one of the key marketing tactics he and Fred were determined to maintain in order to keep their products relevant, fun, and interesting.

Lee Jordan was a great help getting the business back up and running again in a post-war world. He even came up with new marketing ideas and techniques to use, as well as gifting George a few older formulas he came up with on his own back at school that he felt were inferior to the twins' ideas already being made and tested at the time.

"Figure they could give you a little push in the right direction when you need a new gadget launched," Lee had stated with a smile.

He was always good with the hands-on products like the Extendable Ears or the Boxing Telescope, but even after a very tempting and convincing pitch to his long time school friend on staying on and being a part of the inventive mind to the store, Lee had declined George's offer, much to the ginger's disappointment. Lee's aspirations had lead him to be an apprentice as a magical carpenter, so his prankster, mischievous side had long since been tamed.

George was grateful for Ron's help in maintaining the practical side of things, though he knew that his little brother would've rather retained his position as an Auror rather than co-managing a joke shop. The silent guilt that tugged on his conscience made it even more difficult for him to stay focused on the bigger problems he was starting to face: new product.

The issue wasn't going to solve itself, but it was starting to make the store grow stale – to George that is. He was scared of trying to pursue the solution he knew would help pull him from this gloom, but how could he even think of considering replacing his brother as his second? As the other inventor? The only other option he could think of was retirement, but then that would mean he'd be succumbed to even more loneliness than he already felt. At least the store kept him occupied most days. Perhaps it would be a little better than finding a replacement for someone irreplaceable.

"Think I might retire," George announced over supper at the Burrow one day.

The unusually small group of four that surrounded him went silent, all eyes were now focusing on him. George continued eating as if he didn't just drop such heavy news on his family.

"But the shop is doing great," Ron piped up after a beat.

"I've got nothing going for me there anymore. The ideas just aren't coming as steady as they used to," George continued, not looking up from his plate.

"Don't let the lack of something new stop you from seeing the success you have now," Hermione jumped in.

"That isn't the point, sis-in-law," George retorted, taking a quick bite before continuing. "It just isn't doing it for me. It's not fulfilling like it once was."

"But you can't close it up now! I quit my job to help you!" Ron shot back, a fresh bite of food in his mouth as well.

"Quit talking with your mouths full the both of you!" Molly scolded, giving both her children stern looks. "And Georgie, do what you feel is best. But I wouldn't give up on it just yet. You should just take some time and reflect on your decisions before making any sudden ones."

"I agree with Molly," Hermione said. "Is the only problem you are having is the lack of creative inspiration?"

George didn't respond, instead he drooped his head over his plate. He really didn't think he was going to be prodded for information as to why exactly. He hoped the generic response would be enough. After a moment, he gave a slight shrug as an answer.

"There are some brilliant minds at the Ministry, I could ask around and—"

"No," George said, voice firm.

This startled Hermione some, but Ron decided to cut in. "Why not?"

"I just can't have some nobody come in and expose our intellectual property to on a whim like that," George explained heatedly, as if this should be common knowledge. "It's not that _easy._ "

Hermione bit her bottom lip, mind racing for a solution. "What if it's someone we trust?"

Ron seemed to catch on as to who his wife was thinking about. "Finnigan!" he blurted. "He'd be the perfect candidate. Always doing crazy things, just for fun mostly once he got the hang of it, but I bet he could put your fireworks to shame."

George quirked a brow at the suggestion, trying to put a face to the name. "Ah, the pyrotech. I suppose he fits the job description so long as he is as nutty as I am…"

"Oh, he can get pretty nutty. Good luck trying to understand him when he gets worked up, though. That accent– Ow." Ron seethed as Hermione jabbed an elbow into his side.

"See? Give things some time and they can be worked out in a jiffy." Molly's bright smile toward her son before excusing herself from the table only partially relit the hopeful fire inside George.

The quiet lingered on as the three resumed eating, until finally George spoke up again. "Well, I'm a freaking headcase at this point on what else to do. Toss him an owl, I suppose, and we will see where the cards land."

 **.oOo.**

George couldn't help but feel like this was going to be the worst idea he ever came up with. Spilling Fred and his secrets to one of his brother and sister-in-laws schoolmates wasn't something he ever contemplated on doing without more consideration taken place. But then again, he never thought he would need to find a _replacement,_ either. A pain struck his chest at phrasing it that way in his head. He could never replace his brother, but he needed a second inventive mind that somewhat matched his own in order to keep the joke shop alive, to keep him alive, to keep Fred's legacy alive.

Seamus had arrived at Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes early, eager to show off his talent that could save the shop from closing. George remained apprehensive as he greeted the Scot at the door.

"Top of the morning to you. Finnigan, I presume?"

The pair shook hands. "One and only. I've not come empty handed, either."

Seamus gave a tap to his forehead as if to indicate he was prepared with a string of ideas. George gave a crooked smirk and ushered him inside. The churning in his gut twisted at him as he approached the workshop in the back, weaving in between the boxes of merchandise that he conveniently stashed there to obscure the entrance. It had been too long since he tried to re-enter the space, the panic attacks weren't worth it, so the office was where his new thinking space was for the time being.

"So you are quite the expert with pyrotechs, if I remember correctly?" George questioned, fiddling with the door.

"I'd like to think so," Seamus said, taking in the place around him. "I've managed to refine the skill quite a bit since. Got more control with it now."

"Well that's a plus. Remind me never to piss you off, eh?" The click of the lock signaled the door was freed. "Ready to jump in the fire?"

George lead him into the workshop, explaining that all the inventive magic went on in here. He tried to not get sick in the meantime, the memories were still too fresh to try and tolerate, and now he let an almost stranger join in. He took Seamus to the desk where the neat folders of parchment contained countless formulas and ideas for potential future products.

Seamus was amazed at how many unused ideas just sat there untouched. Taking a seat at the only chair there, he immediately flipped through several batches of parchment.

"Eager to jump right in, are we?" George folded his arms and leaned against the wall, watching the Scot rummage through the piles.

"Sorry." Seamus pulled one that caught his eye. "Figure you'd like to get on with it."

George trusted Ron and Hermione, and they both vouched for Seamus on being a good guy. Now he hoped that they were able to make something of it. The seconds ticked by, Seamus had set aside a few formulas that must have caught his interest, but George remained silent so he could keep his focus on whatever was going through his mind.

"You've got a brilliant mind, George," Seamus gushed, accent sounding thicker than usual as he glanced at the ginger. "Some of these shouldn't be too difficult to get off the ground right away."

"It wasn't just mine." George trailed off, shaking that dark thought away. He leaned over the table to see what formulas the Scot set aside.

Tapping on the top one, he gave a shake of his head. "This one is no good. We weren't able to get the explosion contained enough to avoid injury."

Seamus laughed, skimming the parchment. "It's a good thing you've got me, then. Sparkling Hopscotch would be a brilliant product for you. I'm sure I can look over your prototype and see what is going wrong?"

The corner of George's lip quirked at the idea, the churn in his stomach subsided just a little bit as his mind clicked into inventive mode. Seamus pulled another formula on exploding rock candy and explained that there was a Muggle equivalent they could easily modify and put their own spin on it to give it more flair, as well as three other ideas that had some sort of strange snap or small explosion to it that the twins never got around to experimenting with.

"You know what they say," George started, but paused.

"And what's that?" Seamus prompted, his accent coming off quite thick as he was eager to hear what George started to say.

"Some things are worth the pursuit regardless of the cost."

He went and rummaged through an old box nearby, pulling out the old prototype for the Sparkling Hopscotch pencil. It was meant to be used to draw out a game of basic hopscotch, but it would randomly mark some of the numbers as sparklers. When they were stepped on, a loud pop would sound off before a small show of sparkling lights danced around the number. If a player landed on one, they were out of the game. But triggering the sparklers was tricky, resulting in a couple unsavory injuries during the early days of tests.

Seamus could never replace his brother, no one would ever be able to do that, but he did offer something that George needed to keep his spirits up and Fred's memory alive, and that was a brilliant mind capable of tinkering with things he and his brother used to do that brought Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes to life in the first place.

That loneliness George once felt whenever he thought about trying to make something new would slowly dwindle, the inability to try would fade away, and soon, something amazing was able to be born in the workshop once more. It was everything that he and Fred had dreamed of, reimagined, reinvented, rekindled. George was okay with this arrangement, and was glad to have Seamus be apart of the mastermind behind it.

* * *

 **28th June 19:00 - Tunisia - Pairing:** George/Seamus

 **Eagle Day - Lorcan Scamander:** [Character] George Weasley [Emotion] Lonely

 **Count Your Buttons:** [Dialogue] "Well, I'm a freaking headcase!"

 **Lyric Alley:** 15\. Filled up feelings

 **Character Appreciation - Barty Crouch Jr.:** [Trait] Intelligent

 **Disney Challenge - [Theme] Acceptance of Self:** Write about someone accepting who they

are as a person.

 **Book Club - Aiko:** [Word] Sparkle, [Word] Dream, [Dialogue] "Some things are worth

pursuit regardless of the cost."

 **Amber's Attic - Last Sad Song:** Write about someone learning to rise above their sadness.

 **Sophie's Shelf - Violet Baudelaire:** Write about someone inventing something.

 **Em's Emporium - Ginny/Pansy:** Write a post-war story.

 **Lo's Lowdown:** [Dialogue] "Remind me never to piss you off."

 **Days of the Year - International Joke Day:** Write about a joker.

 **Gryffindor Themed Prompts:** [Character] Seamus Finnigan, [Trait] Lively

 **Shay's Musical Challenge - The Great Comet of 1812:** Write about someone unsure of where their life is going.

 **365 Challenge:** 356\. [Word] Nutty

 **Insane House Challenge:** [Emotion] Nervous

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 2,170


	27. Buried in the Deep (Charlie)

**Summary:** Charlie explores his father's shed while supposedly looking for extra chairs, instead he finds something far more terrifying.

 **Rated:** K

 **Genre:** General

* * *

 _July 31st, 1997_

Charlie hadn't been in his father's shed full of treasures since he moved out of the Burrow, so when the chance to slip away from the chaotic setup of his eldest brother's wedding came up, he gladly took the task in setting out to find more chairs.

The air was still stale and thick with dust, and the light inside was still dark, only a few strays of sunlight escaping through cracks of the wood planks. It didn't feel as mysterious and scary as he remembered, but it still gave him that sense of excitement. There was a lot of new things strewn about, and it looked a little more organized than before. The work bench was mostly cleared off, but was lined with a bunch of small ray-dough's. Some were taken apart, and Charlie went to investigate only to quickly lose interest when what sounded like gravel in a tin bucket was being rattled around from the one he tinkered with.

Lighting his wand, Charlie went further to the back where it was harder to see. Vaguely remembering that there were a few folding chairs tucked in the back once upon a time. He brushed past a fuzzy looking object along the way, and the childish voice he heard seconds later had him freeze on the spot.

"AAH! Me scawed. Mama!"

 _'There's a_ child _in here?'_ was the first thing he thought, frantically looking around and under the tables.

"Hello? Where are you?"

"Mama! Scawed. Too dawk. Ah!"

There was a strange, mechanical sound heard then, like something was trying to move but not very successfully. Charlie stopped to listen, trying to find its source. He took a couple slow steps backwards, but something caught around his ankle, causing him to stumble and fall right onto his bum.

He swore loudly as the pain shot up his tailbone. And then that voice was heard again, but this time it was very close, and right next to him

"Ah! Woud sound."

Charlie looked to his right, and what looked back from underneath the table had his blood run cold. It had bulging eyes, a beak mouth, and large ears. It stared at him for a long moment before suddenly blinking, the mechanical sounds emitting from it as it looked to be bouncing around.

"Mama!" the thing chirped before making the most terrifying giggly laugh the ginger had ever heard.

He was on his feet and bolting for the door before he could register what he was doing. Charlie Weasley, Dragon Wrangler for a large portion of his life, got scared of a small, robotic Muggle pet Furby.

* * *

 **Written for the Daily Prophet Challenge Issue 3 - The Naughty Nineties**

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 440

 **Featured 90s Memorabilia:** Furby


	28. Day in the Life of a Niffler (Niffler)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **Written for QLFC Season 6, Round 4**

 **Team:** Wigtown Wanderers

 **Position:** Chaser 2

 **Position Prompt:** Write from a pet's perspective about their everyday life.

 **Additional Prompts:**

[Restriction] No names

[Phrase] Under the stairs

[Creature] Niffler

* * *

 **Summary:** What does a Niffler do all day long? Exactly what you expect it to. Pillaging and Mayhem.

 **Genre:** Adventure

* * *

 **Day in the Life of a Niffler**

The Niffler awoke that morning in his burrow lined with countless treasures from his countless scavingings. Gold chains, silver lockets, twinkling amber earrings, and even a well polished Galleon or two were crammed into the dirt walls of its hiding place and home. He always had the same goal each day – find whatever shiny, sparkly object he could that was strewn about the creature's makeshift habitats or scattered throughout the artificial environments.

His owner was adept at finding even the most difficult of hiding places for trinkets, and sometimes it bothered the Niffler that he would wake to notice a few things were taken to be reused in the never ending search for shiny things. Everyday he would go on the same adventure of discovery and excitement, because finding anything that caught his eye was well worth the effort. But the time to celebrate about his prizes would come later.

Poking his head out from the top of his burrow, the Niffler glanced around his immediate surroundings for anything that glimmered in the summer sun above him. The heat wasn't too bad; it never was completely unbearing. His owner strived to make sure everyone that lived there was happy and comfortable.

The flash of silver in the tree nearby had him quickly scurry up the trunk and out onto the branches, easily snatching the silver necklace from the thin finger-like branches of the vast tree. Tucking it in his pouch, the Niffler felt pleased with himself already. This treasure was new, and he always liked new nicknacks. A Bowtruckle caught his attention for a moment, and he tilted his head at it as the tiny stick creature complained that he was breaking branches off its home. The Niffler quickly moved on, accidently snapping a branch as he did so. He knew there was much more exploration needed to track down all of the goodies for the day; talking to Bowtruckles was not on the agenda.

Each new item the Niffler stumbled across only fueled his greed to find even more; a fierce-like frenzy would overwhelm the tiny creature's senses from time to time, and the need to find more would drive him to search more feverently than before. The warm, sunny day – in most of the modified environments, anyway – kept the little rodent energized and limber. He liked it when the days were set for the early summertime, especially with the artificial breeze that gently brustled the trees and gave just enough to cool the air when it got a little too warm.

Only half of the day had past, and the greed that demanded for him to tuck away more treasures in his seemingly bottomless pouch still drove him. The thirst for those luminous trinkets and nicknacks hadn't been quinched yet, and his owner didn't tuck enough away this time. So the Niffler got creative and dug around in odd places to maybe unravel a secret stash by that rock or this root. When nothing came up, he found himself climbing up on the small porch of the shack his owner created to live in among the creatures he saved. It was always locked and warded to keep them from getting away, but the Niffler stared at the polished brass lock that the door bore. A twitch of his nose and a scratch of an ear later, he concluded that the _need_ for that lock was quite strong.

Climbing up the wood planks, the Niffler dangled off the lock and pawed at it for several seconds. The clattering of it slapping against the wood only frustrated him more as he failed to pull it off, and he couldn't think of how to get it to release its grasp. There was a hole on the face of the lock, but he couldn't get his paws in it to tinker around with it. Maybe that Bowtruckle would undo it for him?

After much debate and arguing with the stubborn sticks, one of them reluctantly agreed only if he kept his furry little butt out of their tree from then on. The Niffler couldn't promise that, not really — it wasn't his fault their owner and caretaker threw things up in its branches for him to pick up — but he'd try his best to be less destructive when scaling their home next time.

It didn't take the Bowtruckle long to unlock the thing, and the heavy brass lock fell to the ground with a thud, leaving a dent in the wood. He quickly went and grabbed the large object to tuck it into his pouch. The obnoxious stick left stating that the Niffler was a nasty little thief, and that he'd cause their caretaker and owner unnecessary grief one day with his uncontrolled appetite for stealing things, but he just couldn't help it.

The lock was a lot heavier than he had thought, so he decided to go stash it back in his burrow before continuing on his day-to-day adventure. The Niffler found a nice spot for the lock right at the entrance, and he went about shoving the other objects he collected into their secret and designated spots throughout the maze-like home. He rather liked to admire the luminous trinkets all around him, and occasionally would re-arrange a piece that was off.

A twitch of his nose told him that his greedy personality had yet to be sedated for the day, and there was new uncharted territory to explore now. The Niffler retraced his steps back to his owner's shack. He wriggled his way through the small opening the door had revealed once the lock had been freed. The wards seemed to have dispelled upon the removal of the lock, which made the rodent's break-in successful.

The Niffler's radar was on overdrive, and the glimmer of a pocket watch on the table was soon claimed as his, his paws tucking the long chain into his pouch along with the rest of it. He hopped over an eye patch that he stopped to examine, finding the shimmer of the golden yellow fabric satisfying enough to take; the Niffler tucked it away and hopped over to an end table.

He immediately froze, temporarily petrified at the hand mirror that revealed its reflection back at him. Another Niffler was ransacking the place? That couldn't be; he was his owner's only one, and even if he wasn't, this was _his_ domain, and only _he_ was supposed to steal from it.

After a moment, the creature tilted his head and cautiously approached the ornate silver mirror. The thing looking back mimicked his actions, and soon the Niffler concluded it was nothing to be threatened by. He took the hand mirror and shoved it into his bottomless pouch. Eying the bronze picture frame of the girl beside it, he decided it just wasn't polished enough to be taken. Swiping another small pocket watch, he wiggled his way into a drawer and gathered some Sickles and Knuts. Soon the small space was void of anything shiny that the sun had struck to catch his attention, but his radar was still going berserk.

He crawled around under the stairs a moment, seeing if anything else was hidden behind it. He only found a small amber jewel wedged in a crack before he looked up the ladder-like stairs. The Niffler wondered if the urgency he felt came from up there and if there was more desirable things present coming from the strange looking door in the roof. It didn't take much convincing for the thieving creature to climb up to the top and stick his claws in between the edges of the wood to pull it open. Yes, there was so much shiny out there, if he just pulled a little harder…

The Niffler managed to squeeze his way out of the makeshift home of his owner, and boy, was this world a lot bigger than the one he was used to. Everywhere he looked, there were glittering things hanging off the people, off the animals, off of everything. He was going to quite like this new place.

* * *

 **Character Appreciation - Draco Malfoy:** [Word] Greed

 **Disney Challenge - Song - In Summer:** Write a story set in summer.

 **Book Club - The Count:** [Restriction)] No character names, [Object] Eye patch, [Word] Secret

 **Showtime:** [Word] Celebrate

 **Lo's Lowdown - Overreaching Prompt:** [Theme] Exploration

 **Lyric Alley:** 1\. You didn't close the door

 **Film Festival:** [Word] Fierce

 **Eagle Day - Penelope Clearwater:** [Word] Petrified [Object] Hand mirror

 **Days of the Year - Sunglasses Day:** Write about something happening on a sunny day.

 **Summer Prompt:** [Weather] Sunny

 **Fire Element:** [Word] Luminous

 **Birthstone -** Amber

 **Shay's Musical Challenge - Amélie:** Write about someone on an adventure.

 **Star Chart - Mercury at Greatest Eastern Elongation.:** Thief!AU (Bonus)

 **Insane House Challenge:** 637\. [Creature] Niffler

 **365 Challenge:** 67\. [Creature] Bowtruckle

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 1,352

 **Beta(s):** Angel, CP, Tigger


	29. Art Comes in Many Forms (Harry, Luna)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **Written for Seriously Important (Not) Challenge**

 **Written for The Houses Competition, Round 2, Year 3**

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Position:** Head Student

 **Category:** Standard (750-1500 Words)

 **Prompt:** [Color] Burgundy

 **Representation:** Body Modification; Alternative Art

 **Bonus Challenge(s):** Odd Feathers; Zucchini Bread; Second Verse (Tomorrow's Shade; Not a Lamp)

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 1,340

* * *

 **Art Comes in Many Forms**

It was a slow day at the shop. The downpour of early spring rain in the heart of Seattle didn't deter its residences to wander out into it. They just weren't interested in checking out the new shop that recently opened and had very little reputation yet. A business that offered body modifications to fellow witches and wizards was more welcoming in the States where magical tattoos weren't completely tainted with the stigma Voldemort wrapped around them during his reign in the United Kingdom. They even worked on the occasional Muggle – they didn't discriminate. In fact, they chose a storefront on the outskirts of the magical community in order to serve both worlds their services.

Traveling to the Pacific Northwest was the freedom Harry needed. The burdens of being the hero to an entire country was exhausting to carry long term, and so once he felt that everything he could possibly do for them after the war was done, he allowed Luna to take him far away from it all. It was their dream to take their secretive talents and do more with them, and so they made it happen.

Luna was the true artist, if Harry had any opinion on who was the most gifted. All he did was the piercings, and maybe the occasional scarification, but it was Luna who painted the immaculate images on others bodies. Each one was a masterpiece, even the ones with the fewest colors and movements fascinated him. Of course, the Muggles get the non-moving pieces—they weren't completely reckless with their work, after all—but it didn't make them any less spectacular.

She claimed his work required the most precision, which was true when it came to punching holes out of people's skin or literally scaring it. Steady and accuracy hands were required with acute attention to detail, positioning, and execution. Her work was more forgiving, at least there were ways for magic to reverse the mistakes ink made—even if it was more painful than the actual procedure.

She hummed to herself while flipping through her own portfolio of moving artwork. Luna had her mass of hair piled on top of her head, barely held together in what could pass as a monster of a bun. The burgundy streaks Harry helped dye into it peeked through the blonde locks. It contrasted well with the pale blue dress she wore. He ran a hand through his own hair, revealing the bright green hidden underneath his own dark, unruly locks. Boredom had them experiment with different styles of art, and their hair was fair game.

Harry had his piercing station fully sanitized and prepped, but he was nervous on how to ask Luna about allowing him to give her yet another piercing. Her ears were already tastefully decorated from the lobe up to the helix. She had left her mark on him as well. The fresh petals she added to the acacia branch he bore on his ribcage still itched from healing. He personally thought the witch would look amazing with an eyebrow piercing, but piercing the face was very different to just an ear.

"Your hair is doing that unruly mess again," Harry pointed out, pulling her attention away from her work to look his way. "Mind if I tame it for you?"

Luna smiled brightly, absently reaching up to touch her hair before closing the book. "You know I'd never say no to you when it comes to my hair."

Harry stood and stretched, glancing to the window across the way. "I know you're very busy," he teased, stealing a giggle from Luna, "But should we just close up?"

It only took a few minutes to move to the back studio where Harry expertly brushed through Luna's hair. Separating the burgundy top layer of hair from the rest, he braided the colored hair down the sides of her head and straight down the center of her back, leaving the blond underneath loose as he tied it off with a hair scrunchie. Harry was quite pleased with how much the reddish-purple jewel popped with her white complexion.

"How do you like it?"

Luna took in her appearance at a nearby mirror, a smile splitting across her face as she ran her fingers over the burgundy braid. She turned to set silver eyes on Harry.

"I love it." She combed her fingers through her hair then, silently contemplating as Harry cleaned up the loose strands. "What's on your mind, Harry?"

He paused and addressed her briefly. "Nothing. I wanted to thank you for adding the new blooms on my tattoo."

She hummed her thanks, but knew there was more. "You know it is never a problem. There's something else, though."

"I think…" Harry abandoned the broom to approach Luna. "I think you'd look quite good with stud piercings here."

He pointed to each outer ends of her blond eyebrows where they came to a perfect point beside her eyes. "Maybe a burgundy color stone? They'd look great with your eyes and new hair."

"I think I'd like that," Luna agreed, examining her face in the mirror again, brushing her fingers along her browline. "They'd look lovely."

"It might be a little uncomfortable to do, is all. I'd have to cut out a circle of skin from your face," Harry quickly explained, not wanting to spring something like a microdermal piercing on his companion without warning. "The stud has a flat metal piece that hooks and sits inside the skin—"

"I trust you, Harry. I have seen you do them before, and I am flattered you think they'd suit me." Luna placed a gentle hand on his forearm for reassurance.

"You'd look amazing with them," Harry repeated. " You can change out the stud, too."

Luna smiled warmly. "Even better."

It didn't take long for Harry to sterilize the skin before drawing small x's on the sides of Luna's face where the jewelry would be.

"Maybe it'd look better if they were down here more?" Luna pointed around the area beside her eye. "It'd make them look like beauty marks."

Harry gave a nod and cleaned the marks and new location, carefully making sure the x's on each side were aligned to each other. After Luna picked the burgundy studs Harry recommended, as well as a couple moonstone and sapphire stones for future switch outs. He carefully set to work, focusing keenly on the task at hand with steady hands as he numbed the area with a firm pinch of the skin. Removing the tool from its sterile wrappings before giving the area another good pinch.

"Ready?"

Luna took in a breath and nodded, wary of not making a single move as her companion worked. She kept her blinks slow and steady, and before she knew it the slight sting on her face was gone as quick as it was felt.

"Easy part is done. This one might hurt a bit more. Sorry." Harry grabbed the scissor-looking tool that held the jewelry with the back facing out. "This slips just inside…"

He grew silent as he quickly took gloved fingers and spread the open wound slightly, using the metal piece to hook in before settling it into place. Luna flinched just slightly at the fast work, but was grateful for it. Knowing what to expect now, she was much calmer for the other side.

Once Harry cleaned up and cared for the new piercings, he offered Luna a hand mirror to critique his work. She turned her head to each side, examining the small burgundy jewels that now rested beside her eyes. A smile formed when she looked back to him.

"What do you think?"

"They are beautiful."

"You'll have to wait a while before switching them, but once they are fully healed up you can change them out to your heart's desire," Harry explained. "I think they really compliment your eyes."

"Thank you." Luna helped Harry clean up before she lifted his shirt to inspect her own handiwork.

The two always would have each other for companionship, and to practice their craft on one another when they faced slow days. They treasured the time, because once they became more established in the community, they became quite the popular establishment.

* * *

 **Showtime - 26. Take a Break:** [Dialogue] "I know you're very busy."

 **Count Your Buttons:** [Word] Freedom

 **Lyric Alley:** 1\. I have never been the type to try and grab the spotlight

 **Ami's Audio Admirations - He's got a Monster D*ck** — Use the prompt set: (plot point) someone making a change to their body, (colour) pale blue, (word) monster (?)

 **Angel's Arcade - Namine:** (AU) Artist, (color) white, (trait) whimsical

 **Days of the Year -** **International Body Piercing Day:** Write about someone getting a body piercing. [Bonus]

 **Gryffindor Themed Prompts:** [Character] Harry Potter

 **Summer Prompts:** [Word] Travel

 **Shay's Musical Challenge -** 47\. In the Heights - write about moving away from home.

 **Insane House Challenge:** (AU) Tattoo Artist

 **365 Challenge:** 159\. [Item] Hair Scrunchie


	30. Taming the Lion's Manes(Hermione,Hagrid)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **Written for The Houses Competition, Bonus Round 1, Year 3**

 **Written for Not Commonwealth Challenge 2018**

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Position:** Head Student

 **Category:** Bonus

 **Prompts:**

 **1.** [Character] Rubeus Hagrid

 **2.** [Trope] Ugly Duckling turned Beauty Queen

 **3.** [Feeling] A Headache

 **Representation:** Rubeus Hagrid; Saving the Day; Helping Hands

 **Bonus Challenge(s):** Rock of Ages; Second Verse (Not a Lamp; Tomorrow's Shade)

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 1,757

 **Beta(s):** Magi

* * *

 **Summary:** Getting ready for a dance is much harder than it looks.

 **Rated:** K

 **Genre:** General

* * *

 **Taming the Lion's Manes**

Hagrid trudged through the door of his hut from the frigid winter outside. Fang barely looked up to acknowledge his owner as the giant brushed off the snow from the overly large overcoat he favoured. He shrugged off the wet coat and hung it on the nearby hook beside the fire before kneeling down in front of it to toss a couple of dry logs onto it to keep the cosy space toasty and warm. Hagrid then turned to prepare a kettle when he saw the pile of beauty products laying on the table with an agitated owl perched on the back of the chair. It ruffled its feathers and flapping its wings in place in its impatience for a treat.

"I don' remember orderin' anything," Hagrid grumbled to himself, running a hand over his beard before digging in the pocket of his coat to offer the bird a stale piece of bread.

The owl took off, satisfied with the offering as the giant picked up one of the potions and read its label.

"Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, able teh tame even the wildest o' manes." He turned the container in his hand before setting it down and grabbing the envelope. "Thank yeh fer yer order, Miss Granger. We hope tha' yeh find our product helpful an' useful. If yeh are not completely satisfied, please return for a full refund."

Hagrid let out a deep chuckle as he placed the letter back in its sleeve. "Looks like a bit of a mixup happened, Fang."

The loyal boarhound lifted his head up in hearing his name and tilted it some in confusion.

"Ah, now where's tha' quill again? Gotta tidy up in here; can never find nothin'." The giant bumped into the table, knocking one of the beauty products over as he looked around on the counter for the missing quill.

Fang got up from his cosy bed, stretched, and walked over to the end table beside the bed and nudged the writing materials with his nose and whined quietly to get Hagrid's attention. "What'd I do without ya, boy?"

He gave the large dog a loving pat on the head before pulling a dog biscuit from a pocket and tossed it on Fang's bed for him. Hagrid put the kettle on the fire before grabbing the parchment, ink, and quill, but before he could inform Hermione that her delivery was delivered to him, the frazzled witch stormed into the tiny hut from the snow falling outside.

"Nice to see yeh, Hermione," he greeted, somewhat surprised by her arrival. "Jus' got the kettle on, care for some tea?"

"No, sure. I mean… yes, please?" Hermione shook her head at the misuse of words, slapping a hand over her brow in embarrassment.

She looked quite stressed out, which wasn't completely unusual for the young witch since Hagrid has known her, but this time it was a different sort of stress. He could tell by the way she carried herself and how she didn't seem to want to sit still. She paced around the small space wearing her damp cloak from the unbrushed snow melting into the fabric from the heat of the hut.

"Got a bit of the nerves, do yeh?" Hagrid offered her a chair and offered a cup as she sat down. "Care to talk 'bout it? May help yeh calm down some."

Hagrid pulled the kettle as it started whistling and placed it between them on the table. Hermione took her time prepping her tea, taking a large sip before she absently rubbed at her forehead, flinching some at the motion. "This silly dance has me all nervous, and maybe a little annoyed? I don't know. I don't even think I like to dance, but ' _no thank you'_ didn't come out of my mouth when Krum asked me. He's so... "

She trailed off when she noticed the container of hair product on the floor, and then the pile stacked on the table in front of her. She picked up the one off the floor and immediately started reading the label. "Well, at least I won't have to worry about my hair dilemma..."

Hagrid took a sip of his tea, watching her as she read. "Tha' came not long ago. Puzzled lil' owl, it was, bringin' it here. Was 'bout teh send a note lettin' yeh know."

Hermione placed it back in its bag and cupped the warm mug again, taking a long whiff of the steam before flinching again. "I suppose you don't have any headache remedy around? My head has been throbbing for hours while I scramble around preparing for this silly ball. Arguing with Ron certainly hasn't helped at all, and I don't have time to go to the hospital wing..."

"I might have summat." He leaned back in his chair, sliding a few vials aside on a shelf before grabbing one. "Jus' enough there, looks like."

"Thank you." Hermione glanced the label before taking a sip, grateful for not having to go to the hospital wing.

"I only have two hours to get ready now. I was stressing about not being able to get this stuff in time. Not sure why I am even bothering. It'll be impossible to get myself to look presentable. Kids back in primary–er–Muggle school always called me 'Plain Jane' or 'Ugly Duckling.'" She rattled off as she fidgeted with preparing a second cup of tea, rubbing her temple some. Hagrid figured it was a sign that her headache hadn't subsided yet.

"My hair alone will be a nightmare to tame in such a short time..." she muttered into her mug, seeming to try and keep herself from crying. "And I ordered this dress in a lovely periwinkle, but I barely glanced at the shawl and it looks more like a powder blue. I really hope it is just because of the lighting or that the material is thinner…"

Hagrid waved a hand to get her attention before resting it on her shoulder blade. "Nothin' teh be worried 'bout, Hermione. I'm sure the lad will fancy yeh all the same no matter what color you wear." Hagrid picked up the hair product and noticed the instructions on the side of it this time. "Yeh need to relax an' have some fun with it all, yeh know! Aim fer the moon an' land amongst the stars, or whatever it is tha' you younglings say now."

Hermione looked up at the giant, a small smile forming. "I suppose you're right. I'm overthinking and stressing about frivolous things like a dance. It'll be fine."

"Tha's my girl!" Hagrid boomed out with a laugh before finishing up his tea. "Not sure how much of a help I can be, but if yeh like, I'd sure like to try." Hagrid fiddled with the Sleekeazy's Hair Potion in hand. "I could handle yer hair a bit while you doll yerself up, perhaps?"

The smile only grew at the offer, and Hermione threw her arms around him, joyful for the offer. "You're a great friend, Hagrid. Thank you for listening to me vent and offering to help. I really could use the extra help. Everyone else is so busy getting ready themselves."

"'Course. Anything for the brightest witch of her age teh have a fun-filled night. Knock that Bulgarian kid righ' off his broom once I'm done, yeh will. Maybe I'll give it a try too, eh?" Hagrid said, chuckling to himself.

The witch smiled back at him. "I bet we can make Madame Maxime speechless as well."

So the unlikely duo quickly got to work. Hermione snuck everything into Myrtle's bathroom, knowing it was the only place they would be left alone, while Hagrid got ready at his hut before meeting up with her. Hermione was already dressed in the periwinkle gown she had chosen when Hagrid arrived. He started on her hair while gluing herself to a mirror to do her makeup. Before they both knew it, Hermione was placing a few finishing touches on her hair before she did a little spin in the soft glow of the candlelight.

"How do I look?"

Myrtle had watched in silence at the transformation, but clearly found the need to drop her opinion as soon as the question asked. "Like an ugly duckling hiding in a dress."

"Tha's mighty rude of yeh, Myrtle," Hagrid chastised the ghost.

She shot a glare his way, her glasses somehow glinting with the gesture. "You're one to talk, mountain man. Invading my bathroom like it's a private glamour room for your _dancing_! You didn't even _ask me._ "

Myrtle disappeared through the wall before Hermione could respond. She looked at Hagrid, giving a light shrug at the sudden interruption.

"I hear ugly ducklin's are really swans when they grow up." He gave her a gentle pat on the back.

"I should thank you. You probably saved me from having a mental breakdown over a dance. So, thank you, for everything, Hagrid." Hermione gave Hagrid a gentle hug, careful to not mess up her perfect hairdo.

"No trouble at all, Hermione."

"I still have some Sleekeazy's Hair Potion left. Let's get you ready."

Hagrid had Hermione try the remaining hair product on him, and after a fight with the large hairbrush, a little hair pulling, and a few trimming spells later, she handed the giant a mirror off the wall to show off her handiwork. Although still quite scruffy, the product didn't lie on its taming abilities, managing to even keep Hagrid's mass of hair and beard to look sleek yet natural.

"We clean up well." Hagrid stood at his full height, pulling the large brown dress robes in front of him as he looked in the mirror. "Now, les' get yeh to that dance, eh? Maybe use tha' disillusionment spell? Make an entrance fer yerself." The giant gave her a wink at the suggestion before he gave a little turn of his own. "Better go get meself out there too before this stuff wears off me."

Hermione laughed as the two waved goodbye. Hagrid stole a final glance before opening the door, catching Hermione do one last twirl in front of the mirror before she pulled her wand from the small handbag and cast the spell to have her disappear. He held the door open for several long seconds, whistling quietly to himself before following his now invisible friend out to the main staircase.

If one thing was for certain that night, two unlikely people were transformed for that one special night.

* * *

 **Book Club**

 **Character Appreciation - 6. Dialogue:** "You need to relax and have some fun!"

 **Disney Challenge - 1. [Theme] Friendship -** Write a fic about a male/female friendship. (That stays a friendship.)

 **Showtime - 8. Man Up:** (emotion) Joy

 **Amber's Attic - 5. Pin-Up Girl:** Write about someone dressing up.

 **Count Your Buttons - 2:** [Dialogue] "Aim for the moon and land amongst the stars, or whatever it is."

 **Lyric Alley - 9**. For we are glorious

 **Ami's Audio Admirations - 3. The B-List —** Write about someone average or someone who feels that they are average.

 **Angel's Arcade - 1. Sub Zero:** (weather) snowing, (dialogue) "I should thank you. You probably saved my life." (color) powder blue

 **Bex's Bazaar - 3. [Character] Timothy Q. Mouse -** Write about a supportive friend.

 **Film Festival - 20.** (action) Hair being pulled, **45.** (emotion) Embarrassed

 **Summer Event**

 **Days of the Year - Smile Power Day:** Write about cheering somebody up.

 **Shay's Musical Challenge - . Spongebob the Musical -** alt, write about someone saving the day.

 **Gryffindor Themed Prompt -** [Character] Rubeus Hagrid [Trait] Chivalrous

 **Insane House Challenge:** 952\. Style - Third Person

 **365 Day Challenge:** 62\. Colour - Periwinkle


	31. Deception of Friendship (Draco, OC)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **Written for Monthly Challenges for All 2018**

 **Written for QLFC Season 6, Round 8**

 **Team:** Wigtown Wanderers

 **Position:** Chaser 2

 **Position Prompt:** Finding out someone was not the same species as you.

 **Additional Prompts:**

[Word] Belittle

[Emotion] frustration

[Dialogue] "And then I wondered… why do they need fixing? Everyone and everything is broken in some way anyway."

 **Representation:** Draco Malfoy; Mislead, Over-trusting; Deceived

 **Bonus Challenges:** Sitting Hummingbird; Second Verse (Not a Lamp; Tomorrow's Shade; Unwanted Advice; Some Beach)

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 2,373

 **Beta(s):** Ash

* * *

 **Summary:** Friendship shouldn't develop so easy for someone like Draco. Unfortunately, he figured out why being selective towards others was important in his upbringing.

 **Genre:** Angst

 **Rated:** K+

* * *

A month had passed since the war ended but it felt like an eternity to Draco Malfoy. Their house arrest under the Ministry was lifted, and finally being out from under the control of someone was a relief and a sense of freedom that would not be taken for granted ever again. Today was Draco's eighteenth birthday and being cooped up in the Manor was the last thing he wanted to do on the first day of freedom he's felt since fourth year.

Stepping into the gardens, Draco took in the fresh air as he followed the brick path through the neglected vegetation. Approaching a wrought iron fence, the gargoyle head at its center barely tilted in acknowledgement to his presence before creaking open. Draco proceeded into the back property; he hadn't been there since he was a child. It used to house the stables, pasture, and quarters for the maids and stable hands for his ancestors horses and livestock. Today it was nothing but fields, clusters of trees, wildlife, and a pond. Something told him it would be the perfect place to seek a comfortable solitude to process everything.

Draco wasn't expecting to stumble upon a park-like area around the pond. A gazebo was built on the small hill by it, and a bench was placed under the large oak tree on the opposite side. He wondered when this was done and by who, but for now he decided to not bother worrying about it and headed over to the bench.

Having a run-in with a stranger was the last thing Draco was prepared for.

"Hello. Do you mind if I join you?"

He was on his feet, wand drawn and aimed at the intruder in a heartbeat.

"Who are you?"

Undeterred, the girl sat down, moving the bookbag to her lap as she casually rummaged through it. "Iris. I live up the road." She made a gesture with her hand to the dirt road in the distance. "I haven't seen you around before. Did you recently move here?"

Her lack of a reaction having a wand drawn on her frustrated him. "This is _my_ property," Draco hissed back.

Her aquamarine eyes widened at the statement. "Oh, I-I didn't know. My Aunt told me that it was okay to come here." She scrambled to get things stuffed back in her bag. "I'm sorry."

Draco lowered his wand arm as she was getting ready to leave. "Who is your aunt?"

He knew there were Muggle repellent wards covering the many acres of Malfoy property. This area was no exception, so he at least knew she was magical. Iris stood up, clutching the strap of the book bag tightly as she fidgeted.

"Uh–Ri–I mean, Sabrina Blackthorn," she said hesitantly.

Draco withdrew his wand. Sabrina _was_ a good friend of his mother's until she tucked herself away during the Dark Lord's return. He figured he would've met this girl by now if she lived with her, unless it was a recent arrangement as a result from the war. This possibility made Draco feel uneasy about her presence, feeling a sense of impending dread in the pit of his stomach.

"You don't look like a Blackthorn," he commented, examining Iris's blonde hair, pale skin, and blue eyes.

Iris certainly didn't fit Sabrina or her son's physical appearances of black hair, dark blue eyes, and olive skin. Even the Blackthorn wandmakers held a similar resemblance to them, aside from their skin tone. She could've been his own mother in her youth at the striking resemblance.

She gave a shrug. "I suppose I adopted my mother's looks. Sabrina married into the family."

"I see." Draco knew more than he already wanted to. "I wasn't expecting company."

"I can leave."

Despite her sudden presence, Draco felt compelled to be around a stranger who didn't know anything about him or who he was. It was comforting in a confused and frustrating way, but he didn't want to be completely alone anymore.

"I'm Draco."

She gave him a sheepish smile before she sat beside him. "Nice to meet you."

It wasn't the first time that Draco met someone he didn't belittle or question. At least Iris was a living person unlike the last person he unintentionally bonded with. She was more thoughtful than the ghost girl, and much quieter.

The first several meetings were like that; peaceful and quiet. They were able to enjoy each other's company without the awkward silence hovering over them or feeling to force conversation, which was a little strange, but still welcoming.

When they did talk, it was about trivial things or simple comments about their homelife. Draco didn't disclose much, but he didn't mind Iris telling him about herself. It gave him a sense of comfort that not everyone out in the world would judge him by the name he bore. Iris seemed ignorant to the Dark Lords reign, and he wondered if it was by choice, or if Sabrina went to great lengths to shield her from the tragedy of it.

When the snow fell months later, their friendship developed enough that Iris managed to convince Draco to try ice skating on the frozen pond. It wasn't something he'd done since he was a child but he reluctantly obliged to the embarrassment that quickly followed.

The experiment left Draco thoroughly annoyed and frustrated and he retreated to the gazebo after falling for the countless time. Iris joined him a minute later, resisting to smile as she sat down.

"Why did you quit? You weren't doing that bad," she commented, unlacing her skates.

He rolled his eyes. "Belittle me all you want, it isn't going to make me continue to endure the bruises."

Iris shrugged, getting her boots on.

"I've noticed something about you that has me wondering."

He let out a breath. "What's that?"

"You feel like your lack of ability in something is a weakness. Why is that?"

It wasn't a question that Draco was prepared to ever answer. His silver eyes looked to her, feeling almost appalled at the question, but found that dodging it wasn't going to work. "It's how I was raised."

She nodded thoughtfully at the answer. "I used to think that way, too. When I wasn't good at something it meant I was broken or needed to find a way to fix myself in order to be normal." She paused to finish tying her laces. "I was always told it was others that needed fixed or corrected, that magic was everything and since I had that magic, I was perfect. It didn't make any sense to me."

The conversation was going in a direction Draco didn't want to tread through, but Iris kept talking, and the conclusions she came to had him feel unsure about his viewpoint on everything he was taught to belittle and look down on.

"This war was meant to fix those who were different, at least from what little I know about it. And then I wondered… why do they need fixing? Everyone and everything is broken in some way anyway, right? You're broken, our families are broken, even I'm broken. It makes us who we are, but that doesn't mean there's something wrong with us."

Her strange philosophy had Draco unable to offer anything in return, so he remained quiet. It felt like she was wanting to lead up to something, but Iris didn't prod, instead they both watched the fluffy snow fall lazily to the ground around them for several minutes.

"I have been meaning to tell you something..." The hesitation in Iris' voice had Draco focus back on her.

She fidgeted while looking everywhere but at him. This triggered that sense of dread he felt when he first encountered her.

"Alright."

"First… promise you won't get upset?"

Draco looked at her with a stoic expression. "Okay."

Iris sighed before retrieving a wand from the bag. Keeping her eyes trained on her hands, she gripped the handle tightly.

"I–I'm a Squib."

The words fell heavy on Draco's ears. "You're lying."

"I wish I was." Iris raised the wand upward as if attempting to cast a spell.

Draco scoffed, not finding the joke funny. "You're underage, you can't cast magic outside of your home."

"Normally that would be the case, but this is your property, correct?" she asked.

Draco nodded, trying to hold himself together as she explained. "Than it wouldn't matter if I cast magic here, as long as no Muggles see. The Trace would pick it up but it would be ignored because it's established as wizard owned property. They'd assume an underage child was close to an adult casting magic."

Draco got to his feet, half-glaring at her now. "If this is your idea of a twisted joke…"

Iris started muttering incantations and moving the wand to make a point before pointing the wand at Draco.

 _"Petrificus Totalus._ "

He jerked backward instinctively, but nothing happened. The growing frustration didn't help keep his temper in check. Snatching the wand away from her, Draco held it cautiously, feeling his magic spark through it confirmed it was a real wand; he didn't want to believe it was.

"You know so much about magical creatures… magic… everything." He racked his mind to find something to prove her words wrong.

"Books, Draco. You can learn a lot about something just by reading. Books harness their own special kind of magic and it's the only way I can stay connected to something I can never be apart of."

Draco laughed humorlessly, tangling his fingers tightly in his hair as reality settled cruelly over him. "You're _lying_."

"You can think that all you want; it doesn't change the fact I'm a Squib."

He stormed out of the gazebo, Iris chasing after him. "Draco, wait!"

He stopped abruptly to cast a spell. " _Verdillious_."

The tip of the wand shot a few green sparks out before Draco tossed it into the snow. His hands in fists at his sides, he could feel his anger radiating off him.

"Draco, you—"

"You had me play the fool this entire time!" He spat, taking a step her way, which she countered by stepping back. "Why?"

"Because I was afraid you wouldn't like me!" Iris blurted out, a heavy sob quickly following. "I just wanted a friend and I happened to come across you one day. I knew who you were the moment I saw you, but I thought if I showed you I was—"

Draco turned and started to walk away. She managed to reach out and grab his arm before he was able to get far.

"Draco..."

He turned on her, wand drawn.

"Don't you dare touch me!" He spat, moving away from her before Disapparating.

 **.oOo.**

Several days passed, but Draco couldn't shake feeling horrible at the way he reacted to Iris, though it was justified. He never thought he could be deceived by someone so flawlessly like that, but Iris had managed the impossible. It left him conflicted on if he should confront her about it in a more civil manner, but she was the one in the wrong. He was protecting himself from someone inferior to him that not only manipulated him, but deceived and lied. Creating a charade in order to be seen as the perfect best friend. Not only did she hide the fact she was a Squib, she went so far as to pretend to be what she wasn't to fit in and be accepted by him.

Stewing over it wasn't doing him any good, so he decided to return to the park and see if Iris was there. Apparating a safe distance from the clearing, Draco scanned the snow covered plain and saw no signs of anyone being there. Heading for the gazebo, he felt his nerves go into overdrive as he approached, half hoping that Iris was not there after all. The breath he released at seeing the empty space was not as rewarding as he hoped.

What Draco found was a box and a letter with his name on it. Sitting down beside it, he opened the letter to see the delicate handwriting of Iris looking up at him.

 **.oOo.**

 _Draco,_

 _I realized that what I did was not the best way of handling the situation, or even the right way of doing it at all. Pretending to be someone I'm not for the sake of a friendship was not fair to you and I should have known that you wouldn't have taken my status well, so I should have expected your reaction, but I didn't._

 _Maybe I hoped that you were different than what I was told about you and your family, thinking that what you went through would be able to help you understand that we are not in control of what we are born to be, but we are in control of who we can become with what we are given._

 _After mulling over the situation, I've decided that it is probably best that we don't see each other anymore. I don't belong in your world and pretending to be someone I'm not is unfair to myself and to those who I deceive. Aunt Rina told me that we are moving out of the country after the new year to Germany to be closer to family. I'm sorry for hurting you the way I did, and I hope that my gift to you is taken as a peace offering from my world. You seemed fond of it, so I thought you'd like to have one of your own._

 _I wish you only the best, in life._

 _Goodbye,_

 _Iris_

 **.oOo.**

Draco opened the box and picked up one of the fountain pens that was similar to the one Iris used. He turned it in his hand and felt the weight in his chest grow heavier at the gesture. These pens were elegant and yet so simple, but they wrote just like a quill. He liked them despite their Muggle origins.

Closing the box, he glanced over the letter again and knew that he would not be able to thank her in person, or even in a letter, but he could try.

The letter he left behind never did find her.

* * *

 **Book Club**

 **Character Appreciation -** 7\. [Era] Trio

 **Disney Challenge - 5. Kaa** \- Write about someone who shouldn't be trusted.

 **Dark Lady's Diabolical Lair -** 8\. Secret

 **Book Club - 4. Angela:** (relationship) best friend, (word) normal, (trait) protective

 **Showtime - 10. Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again -** (word) Goodbye

 **Lyric Alley - 1.** Cheated and lied, broken so bad

 **Lo's Lowdown - 3. Sokka -** write about a Squib.

 **Bex's Basement - 8. Esio Trot -** Write about someone lying for a good cause.

 **Summer Event**

 **Days of the Year - Catfish Day:** Write about someone being Catfished, or Catfishing someone.

 **Shay's Musical Challenge - 19. Be More Chill** : Write about someone pretending to be something they're not.

 **Fortnight Challenges**

 **Feline Fair - 12. Norwegian Forest:** Write about friends.

 **Supernatural - Siren:** Write about someone manipulative

 **Insane House Challenge:** 854\. [Trait] Perseptive

 **365 Challenge:** 124\. Event - First Meet


	32. The Mark of a Reaper (Susan-Hannah)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **Written for The Houses Competition, Round 5, Year 3**

 **Written for Monthly Challenges for All 2018**

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Position:** Head Student

 **Category:** Standard

 **Prompt:** [Word] Opposite

 **Restriction:** Must feature a Hufflepuff (Susan Bones)

 **Representation:** Susan Bones; Star-Crossed Lesbian Relationship; Achieving a Fated Duty; Bones Family Government Roles; Twisted Soulmate; Learning of Soul/Reaper Marks

 **Bonus Challenge(s):** Second Verse (Not a Lamp; Mouth of Babes; Middle Name; Odd Feathers)

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 948

 **Beta(s):** Jet

* * *

In Susan Bones earliest memories, her dwindling family talked about the soul marks and how they were always evasive to their surname. Most people didn't know that the silver tattoo had an opposite – as most things in nature do – to help keep the balance in the world. A grey colored one, known as the reaper mark, could mar their skin instead of the one everyone expected the matchmaking seer to tattoo the child with. The unique and mysterious symbol that represented their match was always placed on the inside of their wrist on their fifth birthday.

Members of her family were never lucky in obtaining the soul mark, but they learned to make the most out of their lives regardless. It didn't stop them from learning about the mark they were burdened with, either. Whether inflicted or succumbed to it, one of the reaper mark bearers would cause the other their death in some way. Most often it was an accident, sometimes it was murder. They could be best friends or the worst of enemies. It didn't matter; one must always be reaped in the end.

It was no secret that the Bones family were heavy targets since the uprising of Voldemort, and even during Grindelwald's reign, they were violently ripped mercilessly from this world. They were a very political heavy family with a lot of influence and power within the various folds of the Ministry. They were the ones who strived to keep a balance within the government and maintain fairness throughout. They were so very loyal and steadfast in their jobs and the roles they entailed that laying down their lives in order to refuse bending to the evil attempting to infiltrate the government wasn't given a second thought. They bore the reaper mark, after all, and they were all reaped for the benefit of others.

It was also the reason why they had so many children in order to keep the name Bones alive.

Somehow, despite the misfortunes that the Bones family had faced, they were always humble and unafraid of what stood against them, which was the opposite of what most reaper marked people did. There was no surprise when the five-year-old Susan was given the grey tattoo but there was a full blown celebration for her cousin who received the opposite one and destined to continue their surname. It was a lot for someone so young to take in knowing that the person with Susan's matching tattoo was destined to kill her, or visa versa. Though it wasn't a guarantee that they would ever meet – or even have malice toward one another – it brought little comfort to Susan.

Regardless of knowing this information, she attended Hogwarts with her head held high, was pleased with her house placement in Hufflepuff, and eager to make friends and live a normal life. There were a few in the large room who behaved in an opposite way to how she did, and it made it easy to pinpoint the reason being because they also bore the reaper mark. They hunched over, pulling their sleeve over their wrists while their eyes darted around skeptically and frightfully, wondering if their match lingered nearby.

Susan wasn't going to dwell on her own, but she kept hers hidden behind a bracelet to not broadcast it, either. It was how she first met Hannah, after all, as she examined the bracelet fondly and asked about its origins. The two Hufflepuffs became fast friends during the Welcoming Feast despite their opposite opinions about the trivial topics of conversation. Susan found her fascinating, and they only grew closer as time went on.

It was around their third year when everything shifted for Susan. The dementors surrounding the school grounds placed her in a never ending sense of dread and becoming fearful of the mark on her arm. She didn't want to be the cause of anyone's death, even if it was an accident. The guilt she obtained from these thoughts the creatures constant presence instilled on her stuck with her for years after.

When the pink-toad tyrant stormed the school, Susan silently wished she would be the reason Umbridge would be met with an untimely death. Joining Dumbledore's Army with Hannah was the logical thing to do, and learning the crucial spells that could later be unleashed on an innocent (or being used against her) sent her spiraling back into that fear of being responsible of possibly killing someone.

The war was soon among them, her mother's death had her push everyone away. Even her best friend Hannah. Avoiding the destiny of the reaper mark was not an option for Susan anymore no matter how much she wanted to deny it. She knew running away was the opposite thing she would do in trying times like this, if she was going to die protecting her friends and family, then so be it. If she was going to kill someone in order to do so, then all she could hope was that her match was an enemy.

Susan sustained fatal injuries during the first wave of war, but she didn't go down without a hard fight. Suffering with her injuries in a deserted corridor, she didn't expect to see Hannah appear in her fading line of sight, face stained with tears as she said something she couldn't hear. She revealed the grey tattoo on her wrist in the shape of a bone, and before Susan could muster the last few breaths to speak, Hannah stole them away with a single, tear-stained kiss.

It was the opposite of what she hoped for, but it was the peace she needed to pass on.

* * *

 **Book Club**

 **Disney Challenge - Theme - 2. Courage** \- Write about someone's courage failing them.

 **Showtime - 8. All I Ask of You (reprise)** \- (word) Denied

 **Count Your Buttons - AU 1:** Soulmate!AU

 **Lyric Alley - 3.** You play the game, though it's unfair

 **Lo's Lowdown - 4. Toph** \- Write about someone who is underestimated

 **Bex's Basement - 10. Danny, The Champion of the World** \- Write about being scared of something, but doing it anyway.

 **Summer Event**

 **Days of the Year - National Women's Friendship Day:** Write about female friends.

 **Flower - Black-Eyed Susan** \- (character) Susan Bones

 **Shay's Musical Challenge - 22. Miss Saigon** -Write about star-crossed lovers

 **Gryffindor Themed Prompt -** [Trait] Brave

 **Feline Fair**

 **British Shorthair:** Write about a Hufflepuff

 **Insane House Challenge:** [Plot Point] A secret comes out

 **365 Challenge:** 248\. Restriction - no more than two people in story


	33. On My Own (Ron-Hermione)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **Written for Monthly Challenge For All 2018**

 **Written for QLFC Season 6, Round 9**

 **Term 9 - Assignment #3 - Muggle History - Task 1:** Write about someone being forced to do something they didn't want to do. (Leaving an emotionally harmful situation despite the want/need to resolve it)

 **Team:** Wigtown Wanderers

 **Position:** Chaser 2

 **Position Prompt:** Hermione Granger

 **Additional Prompts:**

[Song] Losing You - Dead by April

[Quote] To light a candle is to cast a shadow. - Ursula K. Le Guin

[Word] Harm

 **Representation** **:** Hermione Granger; Breaking the Cycle; Stressed; Coping with Loss; Determined To Fix What's Very Broken

 **Bonus Challenge(s):** Uncivil Obedience; Second Verse (Not A Lamp; Ladylike; Wabi Sabi; Nightingale; Tomorrow's Shade)

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 2,190

 **Beta(s):** silently-at-night

* * *

 **Summary:** Hermione knew that her marriage was unstable, but not to the point where it all came crumbling down.

 **Rated:** T

 **Genre:** Hurt/Comfort

 **Warning:** Mentions of infertility and miscarriages.

* * *

 **On My Own**

To light a candle is to cast a shadow.

\- Ursula K. Le Guin

 **.oOo.**

 _December 26th, 2005_

A particularly loud snore roused Hermione Granger from sleep. Waking in darkness, the morning gloom temporarily dulled the ache in her head. Sitting up too quickly was what triggered the nausea. She sprinted to the connected bathroom to purge yesterday's over-indulgences while the spotty memories flashed back into her conscience. Running the tap, Hermione splashed cool water over her face and wiped the sick from her mouth before taking a large sip of water to wash out her mouth.

Looking in the mirror, she realized she was not clothed at all, or in her hotel's bathroom. While piecing together where she was, the roaring snore in the room behind her came from none other than Ron Weasley.

' _Christmas dinner at the Weasley's,'_ the witch recalled. ' _Too much spiced rum and eggnog … mixed with Ron's charm.'_

Lifting her left hand from the sink, a bare finger last night was once again adorned with the simple silver band, embedded in it three small diamonds. Tears stung her eyes at the sight of it that she quickly removed it as if it burned her flesh. The ring clattered loudly onto the counter. He got to her again, and she hated herself for it.

Sucking in a sob, Hermione finished cleaning herself up. Using the robe hanging on the back of the door, she quietly went to search the dresser for undergarments. Grabbing pillows from the bed, she made her way to the sitting room where she tossed them on the sofa and pulled the patchwork blanket off the back and over her before laying down.

Her head pounded behind her eyes; she'd forgotten the headache potion in the bathroom and moaned in annoyance.

Chasing the awful potion's taste down with a glass of water, she fluffed her pillow and laid back down. Staring at the ceiling, she listened to the _tick_ of the clock nearby and checked it out of curiosity. Knowing it would take a little while for the potion to kick in, Hermione decided to try and get a little more sleep before leaving. It would be a long while before Ron would wake, and she would make sure she would not be there when he did.

' _How could he? How could I?'_

Tossing and turning, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to force herself to go back to sleep to no avail. She instead thought about the previous night. No one seemed to notice her avoidance toward the redhead she was supposed to call husband; everyone was busy with their own conversations and being merry.

For some reason the huge fight they had mere days before was pulled to the front of her mind, details clear as day inside her hurting head. Fresh tears welled as she dwelled on the recent past that harmed their relationship and drew the last line for her.

 **.oOo.**

 _Evening of December 21st, 2005_

"You missed another appointment. How are we supposed to fix us if you can't show up?" Hermione asked harshly to Ron over dinner. Visibly upset for him missing yet another marriage council meeting earlier that day. "Do you care anymore?"

Ron huffed, finding the accusation a little hurtful. "Don't go there, Hermione. I already told you work ran late. I sent an owl about it ahead of time. How many times do you want to hear me say sorry?"

Silence. He did notify her, and it slipped her mind. Ron resumed eating, looking back to his newspaper. Hermione all but openly glared at him.

"Work cannot be used as an excuse anymore. That was one of your main complaints, remember?"

"I do," he retorted, "but when I do run late, at least I can still make it home at a reasonable hour."

"That's unfair," she chided.

"What is?"

"Using your argument against me as an excuse for your own."

"Yes, because you were never home! I was here no later than seven every time I stayed late! You never knew when to call it a day!" Ron snapped back, voice raised.

Pure raw anger glossed Hermione's face. "You knew what you signed up for when you proposed," she hissed. "I wanted a career."

A scoff cut her short. " _We_ both did, no objections arose, and we both got our dream jobs! You passed countless laws for non-human creatures' rights, helped rebuild the ministry, and so much more. I put away our enemies that still ran amok. We attended therapy together to lay our demons to rest, reveled in our successes together.

"But we left those careers, remember? I sooner than you, but that is irrelevant. We had a plan, Hermione."

Her jaw jutted out, eyes sharp. "So that's the problem? I caused the harm by waiting too long to quit my job?"

"No!" Ron exhaled the word heavily, running his hands through his thick hair. Swearing under his breath, regretting ever dragging this stuff out.

"It's just… I never noticed how much you actually worked until I left the ministry to help George. I never see you. At least when I was an Auror we went to work together and grabbed lunch every day. "

"I fixed that per your request at counseling. I am home at half past five every day. We make dinner–" She gestured to the partially eaten meals in front of them. "–we eat, make small talk, wash up. You watch the telly, I read. Nothing has changed for the past three months now. No harm is done. What more do you want?"

"But it has," he pointed out.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "How so?"

"You bring your work home with you rather than just leaving it for another day." His tone hinted at defeat. Ron looked to the plate in front of him now, unable to take in her anger.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I needed something to fill the dead space."

"There wouldn't be any dead space if we tried interacting with each other once in awhile," Ron snapped back, smacking a hand down on the table as he stood.

Hermione felt her chest tighten at the scathing comment, getting to her own feet. "So us falling apart is all my fault then? Hmm?"

Ron threw his arms up, whether in frustration or defeat she didn't know or care right now. He started down this path, he was not going to avoid it this time. Placing a hand over his eyes, then across his forehead to hair. He stared at the floor for several seconds, finally meeting her eyes.

"Never, Hermione. I–"

"Clearly you are holding some deep-seated resentment against me whether you want to or not!" she spat, cutting him off.

"Hermione, please…"

"Blame my job all you want, but it apparently is not the problem here!" Her voice started to crack, tears pooling in her eyes, blurring her vision of the defeated redhead that stood in front of her.

"I know you want a family! Trust me, I know! I do too." She continued between heaving breaths and shaking from the overwhelming emotions. "You don't think I feel that pressure as well? _I do_. Your sister and Harry have a child already and expecting a second. Your brothers are all having children. The unspoken questions that echo in the overbearing comfort from your parents every time we see them…

"Can you not see I am trying to help us? I've been trying to help us get through this so we can heal and move on like we have with the trauma of war!"

"We should be helping each other..." Ron half whispered.

Tears flowed freely now, her train of thought faltered as she jumped topics. Ron reached out to embrace her, to offer some kind of apology and comfort, but she pushed him away. Hermione was not finished, and everything just came bursting from her.

"I quit the ministry and went to medical school to help us. To help me find answers, treatment, anything! Yet here you stand placing blame on it like it does not matter! That it's not important. Just stop being in denial and say what you want to say, already!"

Shouting so much had her throat feel raw, heart raced, chest tight with anger and sadness. Her legs felt weak and on the verge of giving out, but she refused to let herself crumble now. She was going to make him say what he has always wanted to say, she needed to hear it. Somehow, someway, she believed it will help.

"Say it!"

"No…"

"Say you resent me for my infertility! For the miscarriages! Say it!" Hermione demanded, voice fading as she said each word.

Looking from the floor to Hermione multiple times, Ron settled on her tear-stained face. He appeared to have been punched in the stomach, eyes glassy like hers. A hard swallow was followed by a shaky response.

"I won't, because it is not true."

Everything became a blur of rage. Ripping the ring from her finger and throwing it hard at Ron. It pelted him in the chest where it then clattered on the floor at his feet. "You're a bloody liar!"

An overnight bag was hastily and sloppily magicked to be packed and at her side in mere seconds, the door slammed hard behind her.

 **.oOo.**

 _December 26th, 2005_

Staying in a hotel the past week was not ideal–or cheap in muggle or wizard currency during the holiday–but going anywhere else would raise questions she did not want to answer. As far as anyone was concerned, the couple were doing alright; attending regular counseling on how to cope with such a devastating loss. Marriage counseling was added when other things started coming up in the wake of their grieving.

The impact of the loss drove Hermione to change her career, dropping law entirely while she attended medical school. Juggling both for a short time further damaged her relationship with Ron, and that wasn't something the two could afford. It was selfish of her, so she took a full load and studied every basic course available to her; from general mediwitch practices to psychology. The latter became quite useful to help understand her and Ron's feelings, she proceeded to delve further into the field while also being officially certified to become a mediwitch if she so desired.

Ron was furious with her in the beginning when she revealed she was attending school again. More damage was done with both of their honesty back then, but it wasn't anything a mind healer–counselor–couldn't handle or mend. Finding common ground, he accepted her choice of field, but heavy conditions were laid for the sake of their relationship.

Covering her mouth to stifle a sob, mind swimming with fresh thoughts and more heavy emotions. If anyone asked her now if she still loved him she would reply without doubt or delay that she still loved the idiot dearly, and she knew he still loved her. The regret and sadness she saw on the redheads face that night showed her that when she crossed that line, but it was clear that they needed help from an outside source.

"God help me, I haven't forgiven him yet," Hermione whispered into the darkness.

Alone, they merely ripped each other apart with their raw emotional feelings; simply using the wrong words to further fuel their fights. She should not have gone that far, but he should not have been teasing the line, either. She is not sure if forgiveness could be given for the mistake again.

An hour ticked by and sleep evaded Hermione. Sighing in defeat, she got up and quietly returned to the only bathroom in the flat to shower away her thoughts and the evening before while debating on what she should do. She left out of anger last time, and the week dragged on without the couple speaking to each other until last night, but Hermione also knew that she couldn't just sweep it all under the rug. Addressing the issue with Ron the day after a holiday felt wrong, especially after she willingly came back to their flat with him.

She didn't want to leave again, instead she wanted to stay and try and mend things the way they had tried to fix their fights before. But if Hermione knew what was best for her, breaking that vicious cycle was what she would have to do. Throwing on some comfortable and warm clothes–a knitted jumper from Molly and grey sweatpants–she didn't bother to tame her frizzing, unruly hair. The mist outside would ruin it again, anyway. Instead, she pulled on some trainers and quietly–reluctantly–grabbed a fresh overnight bag from the bedroom.

Hermione stalled a moment, staring at the sleeping form in front of her as the darkness was slowly swallowed by daybreak. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she swallowed hard before leaving the room and the flat without a sound or evidence she was even there–except for the ring on the bathroom counter.

' _I can't make it through this without you, but I feel like I'm losing you, too…'_

* * *

 **Book Club**

 **Character Appreciation -** 5\. [Features] Messy hair; [Character] Hermione Granger **(Bonus)**

 **Disney Challenge - 3. Bagheera** \- Write about someone who is just done with the people around them being problematic.

 **Dark Lady's Diabolical Lair -** 6\. [Word] Missing

 **Book Club - 3. Brian Thorn:** (word) denial, (dialogue) "God help me, I haven't forgiven him yet.", (emotion) hurt

 **Amber's Attic -** 2\. "Sometimes I'm the mess. Sometimes I'm the broom. On the hardest days, I have to be both."

 **Count Your Buttons -** 4\. [Object] Jumper; 5. [Pairing] Ron/Hermione

 **Lyric Alley - 10.** First you get hurt, then you feel sorry

 **Ami's Audio Admirations - 13. Home Alone** — (setting) at night.

 **Lo's Lowdown - 7. Iroh** [plot point] losing a child

 **Bex's Basement - 5. The Twits** \- Write about a fraught marriage

 **Supernatural**

- **Banshee** \- Write about someone screaming during an argument.

 **Summer Event**

 **Days of the Year - World Gin Day:** Alternatively, write about a morning after.

 **Shay's Musical Challenge - 42. The Lion King** -write about someone feeling guilty.

 **Gryffindor Themed Prompt -** [Character] Hermione Granger; [Trait] Short-Tempered;

 **Star Chart -** **Mars at Opposition. - Prompt:** (emotion) Anger

 **Insane House Challenge:** 518\. [Action] Screaming

 **365 Challenge:** 148\. [Genre] Hurt/Comfort


	34. Mending Memories (Molly)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **Written for The Houses Competition, Round 6, Year 3**

 **Written for Monthly Challenges for All Challenge 2018**

 **Term 9 - Assignment #4 - Muggle History - Task #2:** Write about someone mending clothing instead of buying new clothes.

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Position:** Head Student

 **Category:** Standard

 **Prompt:** [Object] Cracked Cauldron

 **Representation:** Molly Weasley; House Witch; Restoring/Mending Clothing; Seamstress; Frugal/Recycling

 **Bonus Challenge(s):** Second Verse (Not a Lamp; Rock of Ages; Some Beach)

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 1,496

 **Beta(s):**

* * *

 **Summary:** Molly needed to figure out something for Ginny and Ron to wear for the Yule Ball, so she goes digging in the attic.

 **Rated:** K

 **Genre:** General

* * *

It was a cold, crisp morning at The Burrow, but the weather wasn't going to dampen Molly Weasley's spirits. She received a few letters while she was having breakfast and was thrilled to see that they were from Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Fred and George respectively. It was rare to get so many letters at one time. Hedwig gave a gentle squawk at Molly for a quick treat to rejuvenate her.

"Feel free to rest a while with Errol in the barn while you wait," Molly said to the snowy owl as she skimmed the letters.

Hedwig chirped in reply, eying the plate of toast in front of Molly. The witch pulled a piece of crust off and offered it to the bird as she read.

"Dress robes for a ball!"

Molly got to her feet immediately and checked the calendar. "Oh goodness, those children certainly know how to wait until the last minute to inform me of time sensitive matters, Hedwig."

The owl fluffed herself up and relaxed, giving Molly the appearance that she had shrugged in agreement. She re-skimmed two of the letters and promptly removed the small pouch of coins that she only now realized were attached to Hedwig's leg.

"At least three children are taken care of," Molly said with a relieved sigh, feeling the heavy bag of Galleons Harry sent for his robes. It felt to be far too much money to purchase just one set, but she dismissed it as he being over-cautious.

"I better get started on figuring out robes for Ginny and Ron," she tapped her finger on her chin. "Fred and George claim to have theirs covered."

Dismissing the almost rant about how her twins earned their money, she finished her breakfast before making her way up to the attic of her tall, creaky home where the ghoul lived. It paid her no mind as she lit her wand and started rummaging through the dusty boxes that were abandoned up there. Opening the first box, she found the scrap fabric she'd need and shifted it to the exit and went for the next one. Placing her wand between her teeth, she reached for two other boxes and tripped over one of the three cracked cauldrons she didn't remember putting up there.

"Those twins cracking cauldrons from their silly pranking concoctions!" she hissed under her breath as she inspected them. "Thought they're being clever hiding them up here with you."

The ghoul moaned in reply. Molly placed the least damaged cauldron by the exit to put it to use, and sorted through old garments that she collected when her mother passed away. There was a photograph tucked away at the bottom. She pulled it out and examined a much younger version of her looking back at her. The young Molly was giggling as she stood between her older brothers. They were dressed in their best robes for someone's wedding–she assumed–and the foggy memory made her eyes water.

Placing the photograph back in the box, she pulled out one of her brother's old dress robes and examined it. Silverfish must have got to it as some areas of fabric had a few small holes in it. Sighing, she laid it over the cracked cauldron and pulled out the dress that she wore in the picture and looked it over.

"Looks like both of these items will need some work," Molly muttered to herself, feeling a little discouraged at the task ahead as she carefully levitated her findings down through the trapdoor before climbing down and closing up the attic.

* * *

Moll carefully hung them on the clothesline and inspected the old dress robes in the sunlight outside. She carefully casted the mending charm on the holes of the garments. The lace on her brothers robes seemed to have completely disintegrated away, and the tulle on her dress was frayed and torn, but the little holes were easily repaired.

" _Diffindo,"_ Molly uttered, using a practiced hand to carefully slice the damaged tulle and remains of lace from the garments that were irreparable with magic.

Once she was sure the damaged areas were fixed or removed, she grabbed the cracked cauldron and filled it with water and soap and carefully placed the dress into it. As she allowed it to soak, Molly turned back to the dark purple robes and gave them another thorough look over to make sure there was no hidden damage anywhere.

Other than being dirty from storage, they were in good shape. "You just need a little wash and a quick fix here and there."

Molly often talked to herself while she worked, muttering out a recipe as she cooked or, in this case, what the garments needed to have done. She carefully cleaned her old dress in the cracked cauldron, reviving its bubblegum pink color back to almost new again. Pinning it up to dry, she got to work on the other robes, shortly followed by the scrap materials. It was lunch time by the time the cleaning was done, but it didn't stop her from finding busy work while her projects air dried in the rare winter afternoon sunlight.

Before long, she used a hot air charm on the still damp fabrics and started on mending the robes since it had the least work needed. Finding a few old pink-dyed lace doilies, Molly used _Diffindo_ to slice them into even strips for the sleeves before scouring for a larger one to use for the neckline. Once she started stitching them all together, Molly fell right into her element. The robes looked like they did exactly in the old photograph when she was done and was proud of her handiwork.

"Perfect. Ron will look so handsome in you." She glanced at the clock and her face fell slightly. "Is that really the time?"

Sighing, she will have to work on Ginny's tomorrow. Arthur would be home soon and supper was needing made and evening chores were waiting to be done.

* * *

Molly needed to find a balance in mending her old dress. She was becoming frazzled with the simple looking outfit after she finished trimming off the damaged pieces. It didn't look completely awful, but she didn't want her only daughter to wear something so plain and easy to overlook to the ball.

It was disastrous, if she had to describe it. There was little she could work with in terms of scrap materials. All she could even consider using was some mint-colored tulle and fabric.

"I'm running out of time," She huffed out in aggravation as she moved around the outfit hung up in the kitchen, trying to picture how she wanted to modify the dress with the pop of extra color.

Making a few measurements, Molly chewed her lip as she double checked measurements and eyed the tulle nearby. If she did this right, there will be just enough on hand. But before she could risk it, she would tend to the shoulder straps first. Shaping and stitching those were easy, and once finished, it really helped her feel confident about the color choice. It blended quite nicely with the pink.

"Now to get the skirt handled," she said with a puffy breath.

Taking out her measurements and roughly made pattern, Molly laid out the tulle on the table and traced the oval shape on it before checking the measurements a final time. Levitating the material, she subconsciously held her breath as she silently cast the severing charm along the outline. First layer was a success. She repositioned the remaining pieces and sketched out a smaller oval shape and slowly sliced the shape free.

"Hardest part done," Molly said almost joyously while taking in a relieved breath. "Now let's get you finished."

The pink dress hovered over as she had the tulle loosely wrap around the skirt from the waist down–looking like petals of a tulip. It looked better than Molly anticipated, and she wondered why she worried over it so much.

"She will love it."

Stitching the materials together was a breeze, and after adding a sash around the waist and hemming the tulle with leftover fabric used on the straps, Molly stepped back and had the dress do a twirl.

"That looks beautiful, Molly," Arthur said as he entered the kitchen side door.

He placed his hat on the coat rack and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "This for the Yule Ball?"

"Yes. I have to get them sent out today or they will be robeless," Molly looked at her husband before realizing that he was actually there.

"Oh," she said, checking the clock. "Is that really the time?"

Arthur chuckled, patting her shoulder. "Don't worry about supper, hun. We can have leftovers. You worked really hard on these outfits and need a break."

"Thank you."

Molly swished her wand and had both garments gently fold themselves and placed by Harry's parcel. "But first I must get these sent to the kids."

* * *

 **Book Club**

 **Dark Lady's Diabolical Lair** : 18. Write about an unexpected use for something.

 **Count Your Buttons** : 3. [Dialogue] "Is that really the time?"; 1. [Word] Disastrous; 4. [Character] Arthur Weasley

 **Lyric Alley** : 17. Turn it around, get a rewrite

 **Lo's Lowdown - 1. Aang:** [Word] Balance

 **Summer Event**

 **Days of the Year - National Thriftshop Day:** Alternatively, write about something being regifted.

 **Gryffindor Themed Prompt:** [Character] Molly Weasley; [Trait] Confident

 **Leaf Pile Collection**

 **Green Leaf:** 5\. [Setting] The Burrow

 **Insane House Challenge:** 319\. [Spell] Diffindo (Severing Charm)

 **365 Days Challenge:** 59\. [Color] Mint


	35. Birthdays of Living Nightmares (Neville)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments)**

 **Written for The Houses Competition Year 3, Round 6**

 **Term 9 - Assignment 5 - Dark Charms - Task 10:** Write about someone scared.

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Position:** Head Student

 **Category:** Additional

 **Theme:** Coping with mental illness. (Anxiety, Depression, Panic Attacks, Sensory Disorders)

 **Prompt:** [Emotion] Distress

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 865

* * *

Today was Neville Longbottom's fifth birthday. He quickly learned that he hated his birthday because it meant that he had to endure the same chaotic nightmare that his grandmother and Great Uncle always planned for it. Enduring what he could only describe as pain for the duration of a birthday party was not normal. Or so he had been told. Kids should like having a party, right? But he simply _couldn't handle them_.

Not only did they make his birthday an obnoxiously big deal, they filled it with noises he couldn't even begin to describe or fully comprehend when they all blended together. Balloons were popped in all directions, sound makers the kids had were being blown, and the general chatter of several people he barely knew scattered about the house physically _hurt him._ Complaining and crying about it in his distress got him nowhere, so he silently suffered in the quietest place he could find and discreetly cover his ears to block out what he can of the chaos of muddled noise that injected pain through his very being.

The cake he was forced to take and eat made him want to vomit. Whoever thought that a strange sugary textured sponge-like substance was a good idea to eat was very wrong. The mere thought of the sweet made his stomach churn and he felt nauseous. At the end of it all, Neville was faced with even more traumatizing experiences. His relatives claimed they were trying to give his magic a nudge, saying they couldn't have a Squib come from the great offspring of Frank and Alice Longbottom, that it would be putting their legacy to complete waste. Honestly at this point he felt like they scared the magic right out of him with their "experiments" that have nearly killed him before.

It left him very exhausted and shaken when he finally could get away. He would go so far as to say he felt scared around his family around this warm summer evening, especially when he nearly drowned at the pier mere hours ago. His relatives always expressed their disappointment in his lack of, well, _anything_ really. Why shouldn't he feel the same way about himself? He could never do anything right, he could never please them with what they expected of him, he couldn't perform magic. He was nothing but damaged goods, a burdon, a disgrace to his family and name.

* * *

Today was Neville's tenth birthday, and knowing that he continuously failed his family every year in and year out on this terrible day sent him into a meltdown that morning. He did not leave his room. He did not leave his bed. Instead, he hid under the covers, hands over his ears as he fought against the whirlwind of anxiety that overwhelmed and shut down his ability to function. A numbness blanketed his physical body, but he wished it would wrap around his nerves as well. Knowing he had to face the inevitable event of choking and gagging down cake that he never wanted while shocks of pain jolted him from attempting to process the overexposure of all the party noise.

The knock on the door was unheard, the voice of his grandmother summoning him to prepare for his big day fell on deaf ears. Neville hoped beyond hope that if he stayed still, unmoving under the blankets long enough, maybe he could disappear. That would prove to his family that he had magic, that he was not worthless, that he was not a useless freak.

He often wondered what his parents would say if they knew all the horrible things his relatives said and did to him every year on the day that he should enjoy, not fear. He hoped that they would be livid with them all, treating someone that should be loved so horribly.

Another firm knock on the door shook Neville from his inner turmoil just enough to register that his Gran was entering the room. Her scolding words were barely registered as she pulled off the blanket from his head and magicked an outfit over to the bed. He let out a sigh, trying to hide his trembling body as he got out of bed to get ready for the dreadful day. Neville knew he was not going to endure the day already, his anxiety was simply too high to control. The thought of taking a bite of cake or hearing a balloon make that high pitch squeal made him want to faint.

Today, the routine was different, it seemed, as his Uncle decided to give the ol' magic scare a try before all the guests arrived for the party. And Neville, already distressed and overwhelmed from his own mind, couldn't handle his uncle pushing him out the window of the second floor window and catching him by the ankles. The act alone had him blackout temporarily, but he recovered enough when the feeling if falling returned, and he was seeing himself feel a sense of relief. At least dying will stop the pain and the clouded thoughts that circulated through him daily.

It would also relieve his family of their burden… oh he could only hope.

* * *

 **Book Club**

 **Disney Challenge - 2. Song - I Wanna Be Like You** \- Write about someone different who wants to be 'normal.'

 **Book Club - 8. Katherine van Leuwen:** (emotion) fear, (time) sundown, (word) numbness

 **Showtime - 7. All I Ask of You** \- (season) Summer

 **Lyric Alley - 16.** There comes a time, in a short life

 **Ami's Audio Admirations - 12. Under the Duvet** — Write about someone thinking hiding under their duvet makes them invisible.

 **Bex's Basement - 3.** Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Write about a Grandparent and Grandchild.

 **Film Festival - 13.** Plot point: Staying with family

 **Leaf Pile Collection**

 **Orange:** [Emotion] Scared

 **Insane House Challenge:** 684\. [Event] A birthday party

 **365 Challenge:** 123\. [Event] Birthday Party


	36. A Smoking Gun (Mrs Zabini)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **Written for The Houses Competition, Round 7, Year 3**

 **Written for Monthly Challenges for All Challenge 2018**

 **Written for QLFC Season 6, Round 10**

 **Term 9 - Assignment 5 - Dark Charms - Task #3 - Inflatus:** Write about someone with a big ego.

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Position:** Head Student

 **Category:** Short

 **Prompt:** [Speech] "Mimicry may be the highest form of flattery, but mockery is just an insult,"

 **Theme:** Must be 3rd Person Perspective

 **Team:** Wigtown Wanderers

 **Position:** Chaser 2

 **Position Prompt:** Write about someone's Will.

 **Additional Prompts:**

[Word] Poisonous

[Object] Potion Vial

[Quote] "Yes, I've had three wives. One cheated on me, one didn't make it past reception, and one shot me." —Ian Beale, EastEnders.

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 1,635

 **Beta(s):** Bailey

* * *

 **Summary:** Claudia Zabini has been through reading of wills many times, some were more emotional than others, but this… this was nothing new, unfortunately.

 **Rated:** T

 **Genre:** Hurt/Comfort

 **Warning:** Mentions of death

* * *

 **A Smoking Gun**

The day started out like any other day for Claudia Zabini. She woke at seven in the morning, wrapped herself in the robe that was placed on the end table by her bed, and went down to have breakfast while reading _The Daily Prophet._ It wasn't unusual to receive mail along with the paper, so when the three envelopes accompanied it that day, Claudia took the time to read those in its place.

The first was from her son, Blaise. It was his first year attending Hogwarts – much to his disdain. They had moved to Ireland from Italy two years ago after she went through a nasty divorce. She knew that Blaise really wanted to attend Beauxbatons since he could talk, it was a much more sophisticated school, in her opinion, but she couldn't risk having her precious son be exposed to the poisonous man she left that taught at that very school.

He didn't seem to mind Hogwarts much, though he had a lot to say about how ridiculous the whimsical school operated and stressed the fact that the school had a death toll, of all things. However, he was surprised it wasn't higher based on the countless hazards he faced daily already.

"Perhaps Beauxbaton would have been safer," Claudia muttered to herself as she finished reading.

The second envelope that caught her eye was written in bold, red font. Grabbing it, she opened the red wax seal that bore the Italian Ministry symbol on it and pulled the letter from it.

Just as she suspected, it was a summons to the Ministry for a reading of the last will and testament of one of her ex-wives. She wasn't completely surprised by it, but this particular woman she had once lovingly nicknamed Smoking Gun because of how they had met, and how they fell apart. Their relationship was one of the more wilder ones she experienced. To think that she was remembered in her will almost touched her.

Having nothing else to do that day, Claudia finished her breakfast and prepared an overnight trip to Italy for the reading. She made sure to write her barrister to meet her there as well before heading upstairs to pack.

* * *

Claudia sat in front of an ornate desk of the barrister who summoned her all the way from Ireland. He was not present, of course, which was fine because her own barrister was running late. Checking the clock to her right, she wouldn't be surprised if the two ran into each other in the corridor and went out for coffee. It was quite rude of them leaving her to wait on them for the sake of catching up.

Before she grew too impatient with the buffoons (she took to silent insults when time was being wasted on those she planned to meet), the two barristers entered the office in the middle of a loud conversation. The cold glare that she gave both of them silenced their jovial talk immediately.

"My apologizes to keeping you waiting, Mrs. Zabini," the man who took the seat in front of her said. "I was just telling Mr. Nicoli here about a—"

"It's quite lovely that you two were able to catch up on my expense, Mr. Gatti. My time is hardly valuable, you know," Claudia smoothly cut in. "Being professionals, I thought punctuality was a great importance in your field?"

Her barrister–Mr. Nicoli–quietly cleared his throat and prepared his notes beside her. Gatti looked surprised at how eloquently her rudeness was that his excuse died in his throat.

"I am deeply sorry for my tardiness, ma'am—"

"Mrs. Zabini will do."

"Yes, Mrs. Zabini." Gatti quickly corrected.

He opened the long drawer of his desk and pulled out a large envelope from a file before the drawer quietly closed unassisted. "Are you here in place of Mr. Zabini? Because if so—"

Claudia chuckled at his question. Nicoli concealed his own smirk beside her. The witch leaned forward, never breaking her pristine posture, as her chocolate colored eyes bore into the man in front of her.

"Of course that woman would only put my last name with no suffix, but not unusual. It's so very like her," she spoke to no one in particular. "No, sir. I am the only Zabini that Marta Conte would be referring to in her will."

This news left Gatti almost speechless as he sputtered to find words. "Y-you mean you were Marta's wife? She never mentioned that the entire time I knew her."

"Yes, I've had three wives," Claudia explained, smiling as she spoke. "One cheated on me, one didn't make it past reception, and one shot me."

The gasp had her wave her hand in dismissal of Gatti's shock. "It's not that surprising, is it? _Men,_ " she muttered under her breath.

"Her bizarre reaction to me when we first met was what drew me to her, actually. Even if she used a Muggle device on me, that poisonous snake. I've fully recovered, if you must know. It barely grazed my shoulder. It was how she ended it that really stung."

"Sounds ominous," Gatti said, rubbing his brow in puzzlement. "U-uhm… Shall we get on with the reading?"

"Let's throw caution aside and get on with it," Claudia said in agreement, leaning back into her chair as Gatti withdrew the will of her ex. "Mr. Nicoli, are you ready?"

"Yes, Mrs. Zabini."

She gestured with a nod to the dumbfounded man in front of her. Claudia knew he was probably trying to figure out how she ended up in Marta's will at all, especially after her very small telling of their tale together. She had an idea that it was Marta's way to give a last jab at her in her death.

"I, Marta Conte, being of sound mind, hereby declare this to be my Last Will and Testament. To my once beloved Zabini's son, I leave you my collection of crystal potion vials. Not only did I know you admired them so and loved using them while I aided your potion brews, I hope that you take them as a symbol of what we once shared together. For you were my crystal, the gem of my heart. And though we may have parted ways, it was for the best in the end. May you make great use of them in your bright and promising future."

"How thoughtful and sweet," Claudia hummed out, listening to the scrawl of Nikoli's handwriting next to her. "Even in death her words drip of poisonous intent, doesn't it?"

The large collection of crystal potion vials and bottles appeared in the hands of a pair of house elves, who placed the large boxes delicately on the table and placed a list of the contents on top before vanishing.

"At least she left her inventory list. I'll give you the honors of checking them out for ill intent, Mr. Nikoli," Claudia said, stressing its importance by making eye contact. "I can't have my beloved child be harmed by a gift."

"It will be put to the top of my list," the barrister said.

Mr. Gatti swallowed hard, but made no comment on it. He clearly found the reaction to his recently deceased client off-putting.

"For Zabini, I wish to leave the very weapon that scarred your succulent skin. Do with it what you will, but using the potion vials as target practice is strictly forbidden. They are prized possessions, after all."

A single house elf appeared, delicately placing the Muggle revolver wrapped in a white cloth on the table next to Claudia. Gatti's eyes widened at the sight of the weapon.

"Mimicry may be the highest form of flattery, but mockery is just an insult," she snarled, standing abruptly. "Even beyond the grave she laughs. What a poisonous mind to die with!"

Claudia carelessly shoved the gun off the desk and turned to the boxes of crystal potion vials, picking up a small phial from its wooden holder and turning it carefully in hand. "I want every last one inspected, Nikoli. Every last one. This woman is bent on harming me in some way, and it will _not_ be at _my_ son's expense!"

Her barrister quickly nodded, summoning his elf with a snap. "Get these boxes to my office immediately and call for a curse breaker, now."

The elf nodded without word, turning to face the boxes, his own magic weaved around them and the potion vial in Claudia's hand before they vanished with a crack.

"Is there anything else that wretched woman left behind?"

Rendered speechless, he examined the expensive parchment in hand before shaking his head. "N-no ma—Mrs. Zabini. That was all."

Nikoli produced a copy-over parchment and offered it to Gatti. "Record purposes."

"Of course," Gatti said with a slow nod, transferring the contents of the will over. He was unsure of what exactly transpired in his office. It was not his run-of-the-mill readings in the least bit, and he wasn't sure how to process it.

"Is that all you need, Mr. Nikoli?" Claudia looked to her barrister for his answering nod.

"Good." She collected her handbag. "It was a pleasure, Mr. Gatti."

Claudia departed without another word, Nikoli close behind. Though she spoke ill about Marta to others, slandering her name to boost her own, Claudia Zabini truly loved the witch. Her family, and eventually Marta herself, didn't. Their time together could be described as a dalliance, one that Claudia wished lasted a lot longer than it had. But families as large as hers were poisonous and as toxic as some of the draughts that those crystal potion vials once bottled, and it came to a horrific light that Marta was only attempting to gain Claudia's wealth as her own.

"Forever a treacherous, poisonous snake in the grass."

* * *

 **Book Club**

 **Character Appreciation -** 2\. [Trait] Bossy

 **Disney Challenge - 4. Shere Khan** \- Write about someone out for revenge. (Person seeking revenge beyond the grave by using their will as a weapon.)

 **Dark Lady's Diabolical Lair -** 4\. Parchment

 **Amber's Attic - 13.**. "Cupid is fucking irresponsible, and I'm tired of him using me for target practice."

 **Lyric Alley - 22.** It's not inviting now, don't deny what you meant

 **Bex's Basement - 1. Matilda:** Alt, write about someone getting revenge. (Person seeking revenge beyond the grave by using their will as a weapon.)

 **Film Festival - 18.** Plot point: Unexpected news

 **Leaf Pile Challenge**

 **Red Leaf:** [Word] Unusual

 **Insane House Challenge:** 372\. [Word] Dalliance (a brief love affair)

 **365 Days Challenge:** 312\. [Title] A Smoking Gun


	37. Unexpected Encounter (Luna, George)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **Written for The Houses Competition, Round 7, Year 3**

 **Written for Monthly Challenges for All Challenge 2018**

 **Written for QLFC Season 6, Round 11**

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Position:** Head Student

 **Category:** Standard

 **Prompt:** [Pairing] Luna Lovegood/George Weasley

 **Additional Requirements:** Must include a letter or a note.

 **Team:** Wigtown Wanderers

 **Position:** Chaser 2

 **Position Prompt:** Grimm - TV Show (Inspiration - Luna instills her help to a little girl with a very rare magical condition, wishing to help keep her - as well as others - safe. Coincides with how the Grimm handles the creatures in the TV show, but not in a violent way.)

 **Additional Prompts:**

[Object] Broken Mirror

[Quote] We all want to escape our circumstances, don't we? – Benedict Cumberbatch

[Word] Pattern

 **Representation:** Luna Lovegood; Magizoologist; Caretaker; Guardian; Learning As She Goes; Teaching As She Goes

 **Bonus Challenge(s):** Creature Feature; Second Verse (Not a Lamp; Bechdel Test; Found Family; Wabi Sabi; Middle Name; Tomorrow's Shade; Unwanted Advice; Hot Apple)

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 1,431

 **Beta(s):** Magi, Lynne

* * *

 **Summary:** Luna encounters a girl who's blood just awakened a rare sort of magic, and offers her help.

 **Rated:** K+

 **Genre:** General

 **Author's Note:** Blakblott: A black cotton ball-like pest that can be found living in fireplaces neglected to be cleaned or other areas where ash and soot is found. They are a favourite food of the Ashwinders, considering they share the same habitats.

* * *

Luna gazed out of her large office window at the murder of crows spiraling upward into the navy blue sky. The patterns they made as they shifted in the wind fascinated her, but her recent casual reading about the Greek practice of reading birds flight patterns to predict omens. She wondered what a murder of crows could predict.

The owl swooped in through the open doo —an unusual sighting inside the office—and perched on the back of the chair painted to face her desk. The witch turned and lightly smiled at the red-feathered bird.

"Hello there, who is this from?" she asked as she untied the note from its ankle.

The owl hooted quietly before eyeing the window and ruffling its feathers. Luna took the gesture to mean it wished to leave in a more dignified way, so she opened it and the owl took off.

 _Lovegood,_

 _I didn't know who else to contact, but I know the Aurors were not the go-to ones for this._

 _I have a bit of a… unique creature problem, I guess. Is there any way you can come to the joke shop as soon as possible?_

 _I'd greatly appreciate it._

 _George_

It didn't take much to catch Luna's interest, but the vagueness and urgency of the note piqued her curiosity enough to pack her bag of essentials needed when it came to encountering an unknown creature. She closed up her office and headed for the exit in record time.

Being her own boss had its perks.

* * *

Luna barely tapped the door of the closed and very dark storefront before the flash of ginger hair caught the lamppost light through the window and the door promptly opened.

"You got here really quick. My owl just got back," George said, opening the door wide enough for her to enter.

"You sounded like it was a very urgent matter. I wasn't going to wait until after tea," Luna said seriously.

She carefully eyed the less than pristine interior of the shop and knew that whatever happened was not a pretty encounter.

"What happened?"

George closed and locked up the door before silently lighting his wand. It barely did anything for visibility.

"Well, you may not believe this, but I had a young customer who seemed very interested in the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder display. She was acting strange, very alert to her surroundings, but also very timid. I'm no stranger to identifying shoplifters, so I observed her a little longer before deciding she was there alone and not looking for anyone."

She carefully pulled a pad and quill out that hovered over the parchment. Luna traced the area around her with her wand, the pattern of the smears in the powder had remnants of paw prints, so she transferred her magic image to the quill that quickly sketched it as she listened.

"I was polite and went to ask her if she needed any help, but before I could someone shoved her into the display and…"

George swallowed a moment, the sudden silence had Luna turn her attention to the strange markings in the powder to look at him.

"Well… She spontaneously turned into a bloody panther! Just like that," he said with a snap of his fingers. "Fastest Animagus transformation I've ever seen, and from someone so young."

"She had a wand?"

George paused, meeting the inquisitive grey eyes in the darkness powder stained room.

"Er, no actually. She looked a bit too young for one, but—"

"Were there other witnesses to this transformation?" Luna was taking notes now. George wasn't kidding about the situation being unique.

George shook his head as he made for the stairs. "I'm pretty sure I was the only one. The powder was set off almost as fast as the transmission, and I had to scramble to get the doors open and the place vacated. The sudden darkness really scared the other customers."

"It isn't the first time I have seen a happy accident work out," Luna stated. Humming under her breath as she found another smear. "A large cat certainly explains the prints and the scampering- like pattern from its feet in an attempt to flee."

She carefully stepped over pieces of a broken mirror, its shimmering shards blindly reflected the wand light back out into the dark. "Do you know where she is?"

Based on the prints on the stairs, she fled upstairs. Luna held her wand as she approached George at the base of the stairs.

"Yeah, she's still here… but human."

George ruffled a hand in his hair nervously before gesturing to the office. "She went in there. Her growling kept me from investigating, but I left a blanket and some of Angelina's clothes just inside and stayed by the door while waiting for you."

Luna's eyes lit up at the news. The poor girl was most likely scared and unsure of what is happening to her. Luckily, she was currently studying this rare sort of magic displayed a half-hour ago, and she hoped that she could help the girl with what was going on.

She waved her lit wand over the dark room again, the reflection of the broken mirror sent the light dancing to the far, untarnished corners of the room before looking at George.

"Stay here, I'll go and talk to her," Luna said, ascending the stairs.

"I'll be here cleaning up darkness powder if you need anything."

The witch cautiously approached the door to the office where the girl took refuge. She slowly opened the door and froze when she heard the threatening growl.

"It's okay, I won't hurt you. I am here to help," Luna spoke in a soothing voice.

"They always say that," the girl snarled from under the desk. "I won't go back to the orphanage with you. The memories alone..." she trailed off, flinching.

Luna sat down on the floor in front of the door, crossing her legs, before resting gentle eyes on the girl wrapped in a blanket under the desk.

"We don't have to go anywhere you don't want to," she assured. "What's your name?"

The girl seemed to relax some when Luna made no intention to approach her. "Dahlia."

"That is a lovely name. My name is Luna, I'm a Magizoologist. George, the shopkeeper, wrote me to come and help you," Luna explained, watching Dahlia tilt her head slightly as she proceeded the information.

"You study magical creatures. You're here because of my…"

"Yes. I have been learning about your condition, and I know people that can help you stabilize it and teach you how to control it."

Dahlia shook her head. "I won't go back to that place. I am not insane."

Luna raised her hand to settle the girl down. "I promise I am not like them. No hospitals, no Aurors, no mental institutions. I'll take you back to my house and help you with this. I promise."

When Dahlia didn't reply, Luna scooted closer to her. "We all want to escape our circumstances, don't we?" Dahlia nodded, watching her close the distance.

"Well, I cannot promise you that I can help you run away from it, but I know I can help you manage it to avoid what happened here being repeated and alter your path for the better. You can trust me. You won't have to be afraid of yourself anymore."

She reached out for the girl and waited, hoping that Dahlia was convinced that she meant no harm. The girl eventually grabbed Luna's hand and got to her feet.

"Okay."

* * *

 _George,_

 _I thought you would like an update on Dahlia's wellbeing._

 _She's still in the late stages of acceptance of what she is and eventually will become, but has been able to control her ability better already. There is no living family for her to go to, so she will be staying with me. Newt, Rolf, and I have been combing our knowledge of this condition to provide the best possible way to help her, and it is promising. Her future is already brighter, and I cannot wait for her to start school in a couple of years._

 _I hope you were able to clear out the darkness powder and repair any damages done. I would hate for you to get a Blakblott infestation. They like to nest in ash and soot, and the powder seems like something that would attract them._

 _Anyway, she still feels really sorry about that incident, but I told her that you are not in the least bit upset. We may plan a visit soon._

 _Your friend,_

 _Luna_

* * *

 **Autumn Challenge**

 **Days of the Year - Nov. 13th World Kindness Day:** Write about someone being kind.

 **Autumn Prompt** \- [Word] bright

 **Flowers - Witch Hazel** **-** (word) Soothe

 **Audrey's Dessert Challenge - Vanilla** **:** Luna Lovegood

 **Ravenclaw Prompt -** [Character] Luna Lovegood

 **Book Club**

 **Disney Challenge - Theme - 1. Supernatural beings -** Write about someone classified as a being; ghost, ghoul, vampire, werewolf ect. (Maledictus)

 **Lyric Alley - 8.** You're so very special

 **Gris-Gris Bag:** [Emotion] Hopeful

 **Autumn Funfair- Guess The Name - Hayley:** Luna Lovegood

 **365 Days Challenge:** 212\. Plot Point - Getting a letter from someone important

 **Insane House Challenge:** 586\. [Plot Point] Doing someone a favor.


	38. A Shift in Quidditch (Draco)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **Written for The Houses Competition, Round 7, Year 3**

 **Written for Monthly Challenges for All Challenge 2018**

 **Term 9 - Assignment 6 - Media Studies - Task 1:** [Setting] Office

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Position:** Head Student

 **Category:** Additional

 **Prompt:** Feature a Nimbus brand broom.

 **Restriction:** WC (2001-2019);

 **Representation:** Draco Malfoy; Arrogont; Egotistic; Power Trip; Questional Intentions; Side-Stepping Rules

 **Bonus Challenge(s):** Second Verse (Tomorrow's Shade; Unwanted Advice)

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 2,012

 **Beta(s):** Trish, Bookie

* * *

 **Summary:** Draco is head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and his methods are unconventional, if not effective.

 **Rated:** K

 **Genre:** General

* * *

Draco Malfoy rebuilt his name the only way he could since the war – throw money at everything. Needless to say, it worked, regardless how reluctant the Ministry was in accepting the large sums of donations that greatly helped rebuild the wizarding world. He managed to secure a job in the Department of Magical Games and Sports where he was privileged in working with the rest of the world's respective departments.

He even squeaked his way to become United Kingdom's representative in the International Confederation of Wizards Quidditch Committee, but figuring out where the World Cup would be sponsored was only a small fraction of the job. There was maintaining the rosters on what United Kingdom teams were matched with who, when the games were being held, and even managing team sponsors and supplies (Quidditch balls and guards were not cheap) was part of the job description.

He was adept in handling a budget despite his upbringing. It was one of the many reasons why his family were so impossibly wealthy, after all. Yet, this didn't stop Draco from upgrading all thirteen teams' equipment within the first year of working in the department. He sat back at his desk, a smug look on his face while he watched the rest of the department scramble around, wondering why an anonymous donor would invest in such a trivial thing such as the equipment for the country's teams.

The blond knew how to do his job well, even if it was done sketchily, and now that the four-hundredth and twenty-eighth World Cup ended, there was much to do before the next one. Draco knew what he wanted to do next, since the quality of all thirteen teams – even the dreaded Chudley Cannons showed improvement – increased after the updated equipment was issued, he wanted to take the next step and level the playing field once more by updating the teams brooms.

This was much trickier, since a lot of the teams are sponsored by a respective broom company, and so they flew with only that brands' models, but never the same ones across the team. Interfering with sponsors was not a wise thing to do, but it didn't stop him from doing it once already.

Draco arrived to the Ministry early on a Monday, eager to set his plan in motion while the branch where his department was remained relatively quiet. He was forced to spend the last three work days dealing with a rather unpleasant Gobstone incident during their annual tournament. If he didn't have a distaste for the game before, he definitely did now. He didn't even know people took the game seriously enough to try and cheat, the modified Gobstones did not behave well, and he'd rather forget the memories of the entire incident.

Sometimes he thought he could still smell the foul fluid on his person.

Not paying attention, Draco nearly had a run-in with Granger and her large to-go cup of coffee. Naturally, she would be here before the roosters sang. He wouldn't doubt that she probably slept in her office at times, even.

"Morning, Minister," he said with a nod of his head. "My apologies."

Her abrupt stop prevented their collision. The slosh of her coffee narrowly missing the rim and spilling over.

"Morning," she replied, sipping her coffee before fully realizing who it was in front of her. "Malfoy. You're a bit early. More Gobstone troubles?"

He rolled his eyes at the jab. There always had to be a downside to every job, and the fact that he couldn't fully focus on just Quidditch in his department was blasphemy.

"If I have any say about it, that ridiculous game would be swept from the records for good."

Hermione chuckled slightly at his mini-rant. "Always so optimistic. You know I won't allow it."

"I'll wear you down, or plant a Gobstone in your office, whatever it takes to convince you to see it my way," Draco said, running a hand through his hair. "But no, for once, it is for Quidditch. As it should be."

"The World Cup is over, you should be taking the week off and sleeping through it," Hermione suggested, glancing at her wrist watch. "You were a nightmare during the entire duration of it."

Draco refrained from rolling his eyes again. "No rest for the wicked, so they say."

"Mm, well. I'd love to stand here and chat, but I have an early appointment," Hermione said, sipping her coffee again before resuming her brisk walk. "Whatever wickedness you have going on in that head of yours this early better be relatively legal, Malfoy."

"Always the suspicious one, Minister," he said with a scoff as she all but ran down the opposite corridor.

He decided to detour to the break room for some coffee himself before continuing down the maze that was the Ministry to his own office. There were no House-Elves to summon that could fetch drinks and snacks at the Ministry, which was inconvenient, but also some strange rule about not being permitted to eat at one's desk due to an infestation some years ago in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Draco would have put money on if the source of the infestation started in Weasley's office.

The neat parchment he left over the weekend remained sitting there, waiting to be filed. Draco wished he could have an assistant to do such dull work, but he was not permitted one. Sometimes, he wondered why he aimed to become the head of this particular department, but then he remembered his plan.

Settling into his seat, Draco pulled out the latest _Seeker Weekly_ magazine that bore the newest model of the Nimbus 3008 on the cover. He had been lucky enough to fly one during their post-production stage, and he felt like his twelve-year-old self again riding on his Nimbus 2001 all those years ago.

They were set to ship to stores worldwide soon. An anonymous order that was placed forced them to set-back their original release date until after the World Cup. Draco knew it was a cruel move to make, but he did not want any of the World Cup players getting ahold of one before the Cup finished. Even during the standard matches someone would try and switch brooms and conceal it, which was illegal for obvious reasons. The brooms they registered with had to be used unless damaged during gameplay.

With a new roster being prepared for the autumn preliminary rounds, players will be registering soon, so Draco needed to get his shipment of one hundred Nimbus 3008s distributed as soon as possible. How he was going to prevent such a large sum of brooms from being questioned once they arrived in his office was something he wouldn't be able to avoid. He was more focused on not being caught.

Draco was still not sure if she knew he was the equipment doner. Knowing her brains and problem solving skills, she probably did know, but has never brought it up.

This time was going to be much more impactful. All thirteen teams using the same brooms, tossing the sponsors right out the window. He honestly didn't care, and thought that having to rely on sponsors for equipment and brooms to play for a country's team was ridiculous. Though, he was biased in a sense when it came to brands. Even when the Firebolt debuted, he still favoured the Nimbus, and after intense inspections of both up and coming models, Draco concluded there was very little difference between them. It was about the users' skill in the end, and that was how he settled that debate.

Laying the full page length image of the broom out on his desk, Draco swiveled around to grab the hidden slip required for an anonymous donation to the department, he set to work on carefully forging his own conniving plan once again.

Draco was pretty sure that this time may be his downfall, but he even had a fallback if he were questioned for suspicious activity. His father was just as capable of making such donations, and tolerated his son's passion for the sport enough to do the very same thing all those years ago. What's not to say Lucius Malfoy would do the very same thing for his country's players?

The busybodies that traipsed back and forth outside his door signaled that it must be mid-morning by now. Draco gave his forged slip a final look before slipping it – along with receipts and the proper paperwork that came with such a large order and shipment – into his briefcase. He may be sly, but he made sure everything had a paper trail for legal purposes. His father taught him well.

Making sure he made himself busy with the mundane filing, he allowed his thoughts to wander some, he was almost a little too excited for Wednesday.

* * *

Draco made absolutely sure he showed up at his office at exactly eight Wednesday morning. The shipment was scheduled to arrive in thirty minutes, and he had to make sure that he had his story perfected by the time Hermione came storming in ready to bite his head off, waving the papers and donation slip he sent Tuesday evening to the Ministry via post owl.

Lucius found his son's plan amusing, and praised him for his cleverness. Now they could only hope that the tools sent to the teams encouraged and raised their performance. The World Cup preliminaries was depressing for the United Kingdom, to put it nicely.

He sipped at his coffee as he casually filed away even more paperwork when he heard someone approaching his office with angry haste.

" _Draco Malfoy, you snake in the grass!_ " the Minister's voice bellowed down the corridor.

Everyone in the department cleared the way immediately as Hermione stormed in. "What in Merlin's name is this?"

She shoved the slip in his face, to which Draco casually took and examined. "Seems like the department has received a donation of Nimbus brooms. How generous. I wonder if it is the same doner who sent the equipment a while back."

Her nostrils flared from the heavy puff of breath she exhaled. "That's an understatement. One hundred brooms for the thirteen teams! You don't have anything to do with this, do you, Malfoy?"

He raised his hands in the air in mock surrender. "Why Minister, why would I break your laws, as well as International Sports Laws, to feed my own ego? I have absolutely nothing to gain from it otherwise, and is a financial waste, in my opinion."

"This. Is. Illegal!" she shouted, slamming the other paperwork down on the desk. "It completely destroys sponsorship, and players preference."

Draco scoffed as he flipped through the pages now in front of him. "Players never have a preference, they use whatever is handed to them so long as they know how to use it. And I don't see anything in here that marks it as illegal, Minister."

He met her fiery gaze under her barely managed hair.

He gave her a sheepish shrug. "Everything that is required is here. It'd be rude to send them back to the manufacturer since the doner wrote a return address to the Nimbus headquarters."

Draco kept his composure under her scrutinizing gaze. Folding his hands in front of him, he leaned back in his seat while waiting for her to say something. "You can look over each and every broom over for ill intent, if you want? They'll be arriving shortly."

"That fast?" Hermione questioned.

A beat went by that Draco didn't think about the timing issue, but dismissed it. Before he could answer, a hefty looking wizard tapped on the door.

"Excuse me," he said, squeezing in beside Hermione holding a clipboard.

"Is this the Department of Sports and Games?"

"Yes."

"I have a shipment for you. If you could sign, I'll get them in as quick as possible."

"Sure thing," he said, smirking at a furious and speechless Hermione.

Draco knew he got away with it.

* * *

 **Book Club**

 **Character Appreciation - 5.** (word) Wealthy

 **Disney Challenge - 5. Mayor of Halloween Town** **-** Write about someone two faced.

 **Lyric Alley - 14.** I want to have control

 **Em's Emporium - 3. Linked:** (situation) doing something you shouldn't be doing.

 **Gris-Gris Bag:** [Emoion] Motivated

 **Autumn Challenge**

 **Days of the Year - Oct. 9 Curious Events Day:** Write about someone investigating something odd happening.

 **Ravenclaw Prompt** \- [Trait] Methodical

 **Autumn Funfair - Guess The Name - Flora:** [Theme] Deception

 **365 Days Challenge:** 245\. Restriction - Characters from only one era

 **Insane House Challenge:** 886\. [Trait] Ambitious


	39. Tortured Soul (Tom Riddle Jr)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)  
Written for Monthly Challenges for All 2018  
Written for The Houses Competition Round 8, Year 3**

 **Term 9 - Assignment 7 - Magical & Mundane Literature TASK 2: Alt:** Use the following as either dialogue, or quote for inspiration: "If the lies don't kill you, the truth will."

 **House:** Hufflepuff  
 **Position:** Head Student  
 **Category:** Additional **  
Prompt(s):**

[Theme] Revenge  
[Sound] Raindrops on the glass  
[Color] Wenge

 **Representation:** Tom Riddle Jr.; Revenge; Obsessive Behavior; Research and Destroy; Erasing Family & Heritage **  
Bonus Challenge(s):** Second Verse (Rediscovery; Tomorrow's Shade; Toto's Tribute; Sitting Hummingbird; Lovely Coconuts)

Word Count: 2,892  
Beta(s): Jet

* * *

 **Summary:** Tom hoped his bloodline was as pure as they came when he learned that he possessed the gift of Salazar's Tongue. Only after digging into his lineage did he decide that where he came from didn't matter, it was who he descended from that gave him what he wanted: Power.

 **Rated:** T

 **Genre:** Suspense

 **Warning(s):** Canon-Typical Torture; Canon Death/Murder

* * *

"If the lies don't kill you, the truth will."  
— Hugh Howey

 **.oOo.**

Tom Riddle dedicated a lot of his free time tracing the family he never knew. Only having his full given name to go off of, he concluded by the end of his second year that no Riddles ever attended Hogwarts. He did, however, learn about Parselmouths and that it was a unique trait passed down through a special family line–Salazar Slytherin's. This held promise that he was related to the great Founder of Hogwarts in some way, but records of his bloodline were poorly kept after a certain point in history.

Surely this meant that the family who carelessly abandoned him with Muggles were dripping with magic, talent, and power. The Sacred Twenty-Eight all stemmed from strong family bloodlines that traced back to ancient times, perhaps his own bloodline came from an ancient one itself, one of the most powerful of them all, lost from history because of Salazar's extreme views on blood purity. If it was, then it was a petty reason to exclude such valuable and important records from the books on the Founders. The other three's bloodlines were all carefully documented up to modern day descendants, but Salazar's was spotty at best, and it made Tom uneasy that the only recordings of potential lineage was solely based on other Parselmouths being discovered along the way. The most recently listed family name was Gaunt, recorded in the late 1700s.

What Tom had learned from his circle of colleagues he gathered through five-and-a-half years of school was that family meant everything. Reputations were built from their names and who they associated with, family loyalty kept them out of harm's way, and resilience kept them alive during the more trying stages they faced. Tom did not have this, but they didn't need to know that. Yet it didn't stop him from wondering why he had nobody. If he was a great descendant of a Founder, what kept his family from wanting him? Were they ravaged by a fatal magical disease? Or was he some filthy little secret they tossed aside at the first opportunity?

The latter made Tom's skin crawl in disgust, but he couldn't shake the dirty thought of being what his colleagues called a Mudblood. They admired him based on his skills and being adept at advanced magic at such a young age. That was all that mattered to his peers, as it should, but it simply wasn't enough for Tom to be satisfied.

Still, despite his many talents and impressive knowledge on all things magic, he couldn't shake the thought of wondering where he came from. It never mattered to him before he came to Hogwarts and integrated himself in with the purebloods. They always stressed that family and bloodlines mattered, it was what gave them power and influence in the magical world. It made them superior to the lesser witches and wizards with mixed blood, and made them far more advanced than Muggles would ever be. Surely he came from a powerful bloodline, gifted with Salazar's Tongue, that happened to end at his birth for some noble or irreversible reason as well. His talent in magic alone satisfied his peers enough to never question his lineage, but he couldn't be satisfied in assuming it. Perhaps his name was simply something the orphanage assigned him, thus making it impossible to trace his family properly.

Tom wasn't going to let a name stop him from finding out.

Bearing such a unique trait was the only promise he carried with him to being linked to a pure magical line, superior to all the others, yet he reluctantly decided to scout local Muggle libraries during the summer out of desperation and the need to make sure his given name meant nothing. To his surprise, and utter disdain, Tom found a Riddle family–rich Muggles of Little Hangleton.

"Well," Tom muttered under his breath, closing the book. "At least they have _something_ going for them."

He hoped the name relation was pure coincidence. Discovering his possible _Muggle_ family being rich only made the betrayal of abandonment taste bitter and worthy of vengeance.

Tom spent the last remaining summer days planning a visit to the family over Christmas.

* * *

For the first time in years, Tom opted to leave Hogwarts for winter break during his sixth year. He didn't actually go back to that wretched orphanage, but he had to tell the Headmaster he would. Instead, Tom took the Knight Bus from the train station to the written address he found from the Muggle library book. The manor that he was dropped off in front of was blocky and strangely plain for being so grand. The wenge-colored brick and dark wood panels blended dully together, making the house appear sinister with the dark clouds coating the sky weeping with heavy rain.

The gatekeeper barely gave him notice as he ascended the driveway to his booth. He had to strain his ears against the loud taps of rain on the window to register what was being said.

"Do you have an appointment?"

Tom squared his shoulders, eyeing the guard in his booth warily. "No, but—"

"If you have no appointment than I cannot allow you in. Please come back when one is made."

"I am Mister Tom Riddle's son, and I've come to see him," Tom said sharply to cut through the sound of freezing rain pelting against glass. The words tasted sour on his tongue.

The guard gave him his full attention at the comment, and looked startled to see that Tom looked almost exactly like his employer. "My apologies, sir. I didn't know. Let me queue you in and I'll call ahead to inform them that you've arrived."

Tom raised his hand, giving the man one of his best smiles. "That won't be necessary."

He didn't know what to expect when he walked through the grand gates and toward the manor he wished he could've once called home. With a firm knock on the heavy doors, Tom waited. The man who answered the door was an older carbon-copy of himself. A look of utter shock etched the elder man's face while Tom held an impassive expression.

There was no denying he was his father; the dark hair and eyes, the shape of his chin and jaw, even his ears, were molded just like his.

"Are you Tom Riddle?" Tom asked.

Tom Senior turned as white as the upholstery of the chairs in the foyer behind him. The man recovered just quick enough to form a nasty sneer on his face and interrupt Tom from offering an explanation to his presence.

"Is this some twisted prank? To dress and appear exactly like me in order to swindle and beg money out of me?" the man mockingly laughed as his parents appeared nearby. "Begone, imposter! Or I'll set the dogs on you!"

The heavy door slammed in Tom's face without another word exchanged. Through the tapping of icy rain on the windows, Tom listened to the elevated voices of a hysterical woman speaking about doppelgängers and the insane Gaunts curse reigning down upon them once more. An angry man dismissed her accusations, not wanting that awful name to ever be mentioned again before moving on about firing the gatekeeper for allowing such a dodgy person through their gates.

Tom was not impressed by what he encountered, but found the veil of fear he saw in the man's eyes amusing. He would be back to properly instill and collect that fear now that he had a horrible gut wrenching realization his family was not as pure as he hoped. Tom would make sure to fix that, but first he decided to investigate the name Gaunt. It was one of the few names listed in recent years on Salazar's bloodline, based on how scared these people were to even speak the name, they were still thriving.

It rekindled the promise of power.

* * *

It didn't take much effort to locate the Gaunts, the locals were reluctantly helpful before hastily being on their way. What Tom found was even more disappointing than the Riddle manor. The shack was poorly constructed with wenge-colored wood scraps nailed carelessly together. Clearly the place only remained upright with the shoddy magic Tom felt prickle against his skin as he approached, otherwise a good wind would've blown it over. As he stared at the dull, flat grey-brown siding, it grossly started to remind him of the color of the bricks that made up the orphanage. That bland, rustic grey–with a hint of a red undertone–brick wall that made up the outer wall of his room screamed back at him with a taunting vengeance. The twitch of his eye hinted at the disgust for the color.

The rickety door barely sustained the knock he gave it before a tense and paranoid man answered, peering through the small opening at him. His eyes narrowed suspiciously at Tom through the crack, and a sharp, minacious hiss escaped his lips. Tom couldn't help but smirk a little at the rather disturbing threat, but the rain started to come down once more and freeze him to the bone, so he calmly recited the script he formulated days ago in order to gain entry.

"Mr. Gaunt? I am a professional archivist who is researching one of Hogwarts Founders, Salazar Slytherin, in hopes to reconstruct his lineage and properly display it among the others in the school's history." Tom could tell that this caught the man's interest immediately. "I was informed that you and your family are descendants of his, and if I could have a moment of your time, I'd be interested in learning about your heritage."

The man nodded in acknowledgement before opening the door wider to allow Tom in. The smell of mold was potent inside, the rain made the air feel damp and chilly, and the pitiful fire in the pot belly stove made little difference in offering warmth as he went to stand by it. Tom had to refrain from curling his lip at the poverty-stricken squalor the family dwindled themselves down to.

He was not going to stand tolerating such disappointments any longer.

"Why yes, we are. Finally, someone who understands the importance of bloodlines." The man held out a hand to Tom, who reluctantly shook it. "Call me Morfin. My father was Marvolo Gaunt, he was the expert, but he taught me everything about our ancestors, the importance of blood purity, and how our magical birthright is to always remain untarnished by Muggles and remain superior over them and their primitive, disgusting lifestyles."

Tom, keeping true to his made up story, pulled parchment and a quill from his bag, ready to take notes as he settled on the lumpy, ragged couch next to the worn recliner Morfin now sat in.

"How are you directly related to Salazar, if I may ask?"

It was impressive how loose Morfin's tongue was when it came to family. He spoke of Slytherin's locket that was passed down through the family until his harlot sister pawned it away when he and his father were temporarily indisposed. Tom remained quiet as he wrote key notes down. It seemed that Merope–a name Morfin only used once–was the family's disgrace. A borderline Squib–he described her as, among other foul slurs–who was infatuated with a filthy Muggle named Riddle.

As he learned more of the pitiful bloodline that were the Gaunts, the less he cared about family. The world didn't need to know _where_ he came from, all that mattered was _who_ he descended from, that was more than enough to have the other old families to bow at his feet.

Something pulled Morfin from his tangent long enough to properly look at Tom. "Who'd you say you were? Strangers shouldn't be familiar looking."

Tom looked directly at his suspicious uncle. "I don't believe I gave my name."

Morfin started to appear agitated now as he twisted a gold ring with a black gem on his finger. Tom wondered its significance and took a chance to distract him from whatever he was thinking.

"Is that one of the heirlooms you mentioned?" he asked, gesturing at Morfin's hand. "Your ring?"

This pulled the man back in. It's a Gaunt masterpiece from a talented jewelry maker who married into the family before closing themselves off to other magical families, claiming that their blood was not pure enough anymore. Before his stomach twisted too much from the gruesome details of keeping them pure, Tom packed away his notes.

"Thank you for your time, Morfin," Tom said as he made for the door. "All of this information is quite valuable and important for my task. I will keep you updated on my project if you're interested?"

"Sure, of course."

Morfin nodded in agreement, instinctively hissing his farewell under his breath before closing the door. Tom smiled a cold smile as he faced the wet streets. The loud claps of rain on the window nearby blurred out all other noises as Tom concentrated on his plan. The Trace would be lifted at midnight tonight, the very cusp of his seventeenth birthday was when he will cleanse his name.

Lies were better to control people with than the truth, so erasing the truth will pave his uprising.

* * *

Midnight couldn't come fast enough. Holding his wand discreetly in hand, he all but burst through the rickety door of the Gaunt's shack. Morfin jerked awake at the sudden break in, but was immediately faced with a wand pointed right at him.

"Hello again, Morfin," Tom hissed coldly, "I am here to take what is rightfully mine."

Before Morfin could do anything, Tom silently bound him with rope that shot from his wand. Taking his uncle's own wand, he twirled the wenge-colored wood in hand, smirking dangerously at him before tucking it away. The man sneered and hissed back threateningly, but the insult didn't phase Tom in the least bit.

"We'll see who's the filthy one when I am through with you."

Tom charmed the shack so no sound would escape the shabby walls. Only the rain tapping against the windows filled his ears as he tortured Morfin. Once his withered body could no longer resist, Tom delved deep into the madman's mind. He forced his way through the insanity and awful memories. Flinching at the beatings his grandfather unleashed on his mother, the awful slurs, the unspeakable things that Morfin himself had done to his sister alongside his father. When the memories of the locket finally appeared, Tom withdrew from the sickness plaguing the man's mind, finding the confirmation he sought.

The pathetic begging from Morfin made Tom want to end the maggot's pathetic existence, but he had other plans. Instead, Tom erased his visits entirely from Morfin's mind, creating artificial memories to replace them and convince himself and others that he committed the very murders Tom was about to do. He had to be absolutely sure Morfin would wake up fully believing he committed mass murder the night before, and would willfully admit to it all without a single doubt. Once he was through, Tom released his now unconscious uncle, who fell back onto the couch. He turned to leave, but paused when the movement of Morfin's right hand caught his eye. With a fluid movement of Tom's wand, the gold ring slipped from the man's finger and into his own hand before he quietly left the shack.

* * *

Breaking into the Riddle manor was too easy, locating its occupants was slightly more difficult given the many rooms in the house. Tom crept along its halls as silent as a mouse, soon to be the Riddle's reaper. He opened doors as he went until he found two people he assumed were his father's parents–his grandparents–soundly asleep.

He left their corpses just as he found them.

Finding Riddle Senior a few doors down, Tom slipped into the shadows and grabbed the chair from the reading nook and purposely drug it across the polished wood floors.

The screeching sound of the legs resisting the movement woke Tom Senior with a start. He hastily reached for the light on the end table and a handgun from the drawer.

" _Expelliarmus,_ " Tom said with a flick of his uncle's wand.

The gun flew from his hands and onto the floor. Riddle Senior pushed himself against the headboard, the glare on his face soon etched into utter fear.

"I-if you want money, just take it! I will not stop you!" he stammered.

Tom chuckled darkly, yet no humor came of it.

"I have no need for your money," Tom said coldly. "I am here to cleanse myself of your wretched blood and to rectify the disgusting mistake my delusional mother made."

"Mo-mother?!" Riddle Senior repeated.

Tom approached the end of the bed slowly, wenge-colored wand expertly trained on the man before him. The elder man grew white with a horrible realization.

" _Gaunt…_ "

"Tell me, what are you afraid of?"

The man sputtered incoherently in an attempt to answer the question, but Tom didn't care to hear any of it.

With a flourish of his uncle's wand, Tom had Riddle Senior slammed into the chair, ropes winding around him like serpents. Tom considered rifling through his mind, but he no longer cared to gather evidence. He was thirsting for revenge. With a cruel smirk, Tom uttered a single word.

" _Crucio."_

Riddle Senior's screams of agony soon grew hoarse and empty against the freezing rain slamming against the windows. He slumped over helplessly, convulsing uncontrollably from the after-effects of such torture. Knowing he had little time before the servants would investigate–purposely not silencing the room–Tom uttered the words that he could never get enough of hearing while waving the wenge-colored wand at its next victim.

Tom was finally able to lay his given name to rest.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

* * *

Book Club

 **Character Appreciation -** 29\. [action] sneering

 **Disney Challenge - 3. Oogie Boogie:** Alt, Write about someone truly evil in nature.

 **Cookie's Crafty Corner - 8. Gravestones:** [Character] Tom Riddle

 **Showtime - 6. A Penny For a Tale:** (word) beg

 **Amber's Attic - 11. Martyrs:** (theme) revenge (5 bonus points)

 **Count Your Buttons** \- 3. [Object] rope; 1. [Character] Tom Riddle; 4. [Dialogue] "What are you afraid of?"; 5. [Word] fear.

 **Lyric Alley** \- 13. I don't care if it hurts

 **Ami's Audio Admirations - 9. Black Magic Woman - Fleetwood Mac** — Write about someone doing dark magic.

 **Sophie's Shelf - 12. Samara Morgan:** (word) Revenge

 **Angel's Arcade - 6. Saberwulf:** (word) trouble, (trait) aggressive, (title) Tortured Soul

Autumn Event

 **Days of the Year - October 16th 2018 - Dictionary Day:** Write a fic using one of the following words - Minacious

 **Autumn Prompt:** [Word]Rainy

 **Air Element -** (word) Cloud

 **Audrey's Dessert Challenge - Cake 4:** Write about never being satisfied.

 **Ravenclaw Prompt -** [Trait] Resourceful

 **Astronomy - Ursids Meteor Shower:** (theme) Murder

 **Gris-Gris Bag:** [Weather] Rain

 **Autumn Funfair - Pumpkin Patch - D6 -** [Theme] Revenge

 **Innerhouse Challenge:** [Weather] Rain

 **365 Days Challenge:** 5\. [Action] Listening to the rain on the window

 **Insane House Challenge** : 174. [Location] Little Hangleton


	40. Peculiar Interests(Harry, Luna, Neville)

**Written for The** **Houses Competition, Round 8, Year 3**

 **Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments)**

 **Written for Monthly Challenges for All 2018**

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Position:** Head Student

 **Category:** Bonus

 **Prompts:** [Theme] Pursuit, [Object] Shoelaces, [Color] Sacroline

 **Representation:** Harry Potter; Seeking Refuge; Coping With Loss; Justified Anger; Seeking Comfort; Luna Lovegood; Artist; Quiet Company; Understanding Companion

 **Bonus Challenge(s):** Casper's House; Creature Feature; Second Verse (Not a Lamp; Mouth of Babes; Found Family; Middle Name; Tomorrow's Shade; Unwanted Advice; Some Beach; Fruit Fly - Peaches; Odd Feathers; Zucchini Bread; Sitting Hummingbird)

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 2,432

* * *

Harry didn't know how he was going to make it through his fifth year. He wasn't sure how he was going to to convince anyone that Voldemort had returned, everyone he tried telling laughed and jeered at him, claiming that the boy savior had finally gone round the bend. No one believed him, he didn't even think Hermione or Ron fully believed him, which stung more than he wanted it to. The couple of people who did believe him were either dead, avoiding him, or difficult to keep in contact with. It rendered his believers down to virtually zero, and it placed Cedric's death as a simple accident, insulting his very memory and legacy.

He felt very alone on the train ride to school despite the full compartment of friends and the new acquaintance who seemed to be able to tune out the world on a whim. Harry wished he could do that, too. Instead his mind raced with the events that unfolded last term: every injury, every horror, every second ticked through his head to the point where it made his skin itch. To think that he once was thrilled to be a part of the magical world that took him away from the horrors of his life with his relatives, but it soon became another version of this nightmare instead.

Seeing the skeletal horses in front of the carriages had him rooted to the spot in utter horror. The feeling that overwhelmed him at the sight of them was the same when he thought he was being stalked by the Grim. _Fear_. Were these creatures yet another ominous omen about death in some way? The blond-haired girl approached him, reaching out to the horses face where it gently nudged her hand with its nose before snorting. The bright peach shoelace wrapped around her wrists tendrils must've tickled the creatures

"I can see them, too," her song-like voice assured. "They are called thestrals, if you were wondering."

Harry couldn't tear his eyes from their dark, smooth skin stretched over bone that shimmered in the moonlight or the coarse black hair that made up its mane and tail. Their bat-like wings were neatly tucked up against their body, and before he could fully register the movement, Luna had guided his hand up to the thestrals nose. It nudged against it, allowing him to stroke its soft muzzle before it turned its head away, standing at attention.

"They weren't here last year – or any other year before," Harry half-whispered.

"You can only see them when you witness and understand death," Luna answered without a falter in her voice. "I've seen them ever since I first came to Hogwarts, but they aren't anything to be afraid of."

Harry tore his eyes away when he heard Ron hollar for him to get into the carriage and that he was attracting attention from their peers staring and touching nothing. Luna, never taking her hand from his, lead him over to the carriage to board and head to school.

"I believe you," she said suddenly. He met Luna's silvery-wide eyes looking thoughtfully back at him. "About You-Know-Who. I believe you. Daddy does, too."

Harry could only nod at the statement, but he gripped her hand a little tighter, finding comfort that at least someone around him did.

* * *

Term had barely started and it was already going to be one of Harry's worst living nightmares to date, he just knew it. Umbridge was a complete and utter hag, and he felt awful to the actual hags for categorizing this witch as one of them. Needing to get out of the suffocating walls of the castle, he walked alone and aimlessly through the school grounds, thinking about everything and nothing at once while feeling the anger within him slowly burn at his core.

Nearly everyone in the school heard the call-out he faced from Umbridge. As if knowing most of the faculty didn't believe his claims about Voldemort's return was damaging enough, Umbridge flat-out called him a _liar_ in front of his peers. The word was like a slap to the face, a word he was all too familiar with from his youth. It seemed like there was no escape from his Muggle life or his magical one, they were all blending together anymore, and he was hating both worlds more each day because what little difference there was between them.

A screeching cry from above gave Harry pause as he scanned the treetops. Three black-winged horses circled the tips of the Forbidden Forest before slowly dipping towards its edge not far from where he was. He headed in that direction without a second thought. Despite the feeling he had when he first encountered them, Harry couldn't help but be drawn to the beasts and their strange dark symbolism.

The small clearing near the edge of the forest there was a small herd of the thestrals lazing about in the weakening autumn sunshine. Two foals were playing while the adults stretched their wings and pawed at the earth, digging up bugs hidden under the dead foliage. Harry dropped his school bag and sat down in front of a tree, leaning against the dark wooded trunk as he watched.

"You're bleeding." A soothing voice pointed out, kneeling beside Harry to grab his injured hand.

"It's nothing," he said, pulling his hand from Luna and tucking it in his sleeve.

Luna made no further comment on it as she settled herself down beside Harry. She hummed a soft tune while pulling a peach from her bag. Its sacroline skin shimmered in the sunlight as she held it delicately in front of her.

"Many people who can see thestrals tend to avoid them," she said, carefully withdrawing a small knife from her bag to slice the peach into quarters. "Mostly because of their startling appearance and why they could be seen. No one likes the idea of death, or anything that may symbolize it, but they are quite gentle creatures, really."

Harry leaned into his new friend, seeking comfort from the contact and her presence. One of the foals approached them then, and he held out his injured hand without a thought to pat its head. The youngling sniffed at the drying blood on his knuckles before a dull grey tongue flicked at the wound. Harry pulled back instinctively.

"They're attracted to blood, and are natural carnivores," Luna added. "But they're virtually harmless to humans."

She held out one of the peach slices to the foal, who turned its nose up at it before gently nosing Harry's arm again. Luna grabbed his wounded hand and held it to the foal, who happily licked the top of his hand again a couple times before trotting away.

"It's saliva is healing it."

Harry saw the etched words that were embedded from Umbridge's cursed quill were already looking remarkably better than when he first arrived. Though still a little raw, the wound was no longer bleeding and scabbing over.

"Strange."

"Not any stranger than you or I," Luna said, offering a couple peach wedges to Harry.

He accepted them without comment. Twilight soon set in, and the stars started to peer out from the ink-filled sky. Harry looked to the sky and caught a shooting star soar over his head. Luna grabbed his hand then, and whispered something inherently under her breath. He thought about wishing for things to get better, to have a purpose, or something to pursue in other than what he told McGonagall. But what he found himself whispering to the fading star above was that he just wanted to run away from it all and be happy.

* * *

Harry lingered in the Room of Requirement after the last group departed, lounging in a comfortable couch by the towering bookcase of endless knowledge beside him. The candlesticks scattered around him flickered their illuminated light, making shadows dance and play in the emptiness. Teaching a group of his peers and friends was never something he imagined ever doing, training them for what was to come made it even more exhausting and depressing. If he survived what was to come, it would be a great skill to list on his Auror application, at least. He pulled out the photograph of the original Order of the Phoenix and wondered how they felt when they formed the group. Were they just as scared as they were?

At least he knew that everyone that came knew it was better to be safe than sorry, and at the very least, they learned what should be taught in their Defense class along the way whether they believed him or not.

Luna approached and sat down beside Harry, a soothing hum escaping her as she quietly pulled a pad of blank paper out of her bag, some ink, and a few charmed paintbrushes. Harry didn't mind her presence, she knew how he valued the rare quiet moments he found, but having a friend simply be there helped keep the troubling thoughts at bay. No words were exchanged as Luna hummed her song and drew several beautiful flowers of various types and colors.

One that caught his attention looked like a lily at first, but after observing her coloring in the petals in a soft orange that looked almost yellow. The way they were clustered and layered together, Harry realized that it wasn't a lily at all.

"That's beautiful. What is it?"

Luna added thin red lines to the soft orange petals before turning the picture toward him. "It's called an Awe Shucks Dahlia in sacroline and vibrant red. Sacroline is a soft orange color, like a peach I suppose. It's shape is slightly different to its ball-like relatives like this one."

She flipped the pages to show another flower of a deep purple and blue.

"At first I thought it was a lily, but…" Harry trailed off.

Luna flipped back to the other flower and added a finishing touch of little dark orange dots to the sacroline flower before rolling up her sleeve. Her arm was covered in body art: flowers, creatures, an exploding cauldron, and symbols, all beautifully connected into one large masterpiece.

"Whenever something significant happens in my life I record it on my arm." Luna pointed at the cauldron, where Harry noticed hid a scar underneath. "I got this when my Mum died. Her cauldron exploded during an experiment, the contents went toxic and burned my arm."

"Why would you want to remember that?" It was a genuine question, Harry thought. He wouldn't want to remember someone's death like that.

"Because memories are important, even if they are bad. They help mold who you are. We all have our scars, Harry. Some are more than skin deep."

"One of my dreams I hope to pursue someday is to thwart the idea that tattoos are taboo. You-Know-Who took the sacred art and bastardized it with his own Mark. They are a great way to visually tell stories." Luna paused when the door opened nearby.

Harry and her watched as Neville entered, scanning the room before meeting their gazes. He sheepishly looked to the floor. "I don't mean to interrupt. I-I thought I left my book bag and—"

"Come and sit," Luna offered, patting the space beside her. "We are here to get away from it all and talk about our dreams."

Neville looked for silent confirmation from Harry, who gave him a reassuring nod. He soon closed the distance between them and settled on the couch beside the pair. He caught a glimpse of Luna's tattoos and pointed at the cactus looking plant.

"Is that my Mimbulus Mimbletonia plant?"

Luna nodded and moved her arm so Neville could see it better, explaining why she had it. Harry took the time to admire the dahlia flower Luna finished earlier. He really liked the peachy-orange scaroline with the red veins.

Luna pulled out a couple braided shoelaces of golden yellow, sacroline, and scarlet red. "I made these. I hope you like them."

She gave Neville and Harry one, helping them tie them to their wrists. Luna showed hers of black, bronze, and blue. "Friendship bracelets, of sorts."

* * *

Term was hours away from ending, Harry felt numb, empty, betrayed, and violated all at once. It made him physically sick remembering everything that he endured up to that point, but now he had another death on his conscience; his own godfather. A man he desperately wished to have known better than he did. The promise to be free from the Dursleys was snuffed away from him, robbed from a family once again.

He was tired of all the suffering, of all the death, of all the _lies._

Harry sat in a chair at the far corner of the common room with his back to the room. If he could, he'd not even be in the castle. Tears stung his eyes as he curled into himself, trying to hold himself together long enough to make the pain stop. Luna quietly sat down on the floor near him at some point.

"Harry," Hermione said softly, "We're heading for the end of year feast now."

He didn't respond.

"Harry…"

"What! What do you want me to say? You want my permission to go?" he snapped. "Then go!"

"We don't want to leave you alone…"

Harry laughed humorlessly. "You've done a good job of it already, why's today any different?"

Hermione looked confused. "I don't-"

"I am tired of suffering! I'm tired of everyone looking at me like I am a madman," he snapped, glaring at his friends. "I'm done with it. I'm out, I'm not coming back to face even more grief anymore."

"You're not thinking straight, Harry," Ron said.

"We're all mad here," Luna piped up from the floor.

"Speak for yourself," Ron dismissed.

"We all go a little mad sometimes, haven't you?" she looked up at the ginger curiously. "It's normal when faced with such stress and great loss. Harry wishes to pursue life for himself, and not for the trap he has been burdened with."

"You're not making sense," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose at the blonde.

"She is the only one who makes any sense in this insane asylum!" Harry shouted back, pointing at Luna who now got to her feet.

Before he could continue shouting at the quieting common room, Luna grabbed his hand and led him out of the tower. Neville opted to follow them from. They weren't allowed to leave the castle, but she knew somewhere that offered the quiet and privacy they needed.

The Room of Requirement.

* * *

Book Club

 **Character Appreciation - 28.** [Features] Blond hair

 **Disney Challenge - 4.** [Dialogie] "She's the only one who makes any sense around this insane asylum!"

 **Cookie's Crafty Corner - 7. Cobwebs:** (setting) The Forbidden Forest

 **Book Club - 4. Barbara:** (trait) calm, (dialogue) "We all have our scars, [Name].", (action) painting

 **Showtime - 9. Grief:** (plot point) coming to terms with someone's death

 **Amber's Attic - 14. Human Centipede:** (word) connection (5 bonus points)

 **Count Your Buttons -** 4\. [Object] candlestick

 **Lyric Alley -** 21\. Whatever you want

 **Sophie's Shelf - 2. Norman Bates:** (dialogue) "We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven't you?"

 **Em's Emporium - 3. Linked:** Alt — (word) connection

Autumn Event

 **Days of the Year - October 6th 2018 - Mad Hatter Day:** Use the dialogue, "We're all mad here."

 **Autumn Prompt -** (theme) change

 **Air Element -** (word) Sky

 **Audrey's Dessert Challenge - Cookies and Cream:** Artist!AU

 **Ravenclaw Prompt -** [Trait] Creative

 **Astronomy - Orionids Meteor Shower:** (scenario) Wishing on a shooting star

 **Funfair - Guess The Name:** Oz - Harry Potter

 **Insane House Challenge:** 511\. [Action] Drawing

 **365 Days Challenge:** 120\. Era - Trio

 **Gris-Gris Bag:** [Dialogue] "You're bleeding."


	41. Kayaks, Canoes, and Rafts(Sirius, Peter)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **Written for The Houses Competition, Round 9, Year 3**

 **Written for Monthly Challenges for All Challenge 2018**

 **Term 9 - Assignment 8 - DADA Task 1:** Write a fic with the genre Friendship.

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Position:** Head Student

 **Category:** Standard

 **Prompt:** [Object] Boat/Kayak

 **Representation:** Sirius Black; Peter Pettigrew; Helping out Friends; Marauder Shenanigans; Friends Keeping Friends In Check.

 **Bonus Challenge(s):** Second Verse (Some Beach; Mermaid)

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 1,258

 **Beta(s):** Jet

* * *

 **Summary:** Sirius and Peter were tasked to rent a boat for James and Lily at the resorts boathouse for the evening. How hard could it be?

 **Rated:** K

 **Genre:** Friendship

* * *

"So we need to get a what again?" Peter asked Sirius as they headed toward the resort's lake docks.

It was James and Lily's sixth month wedding anniversary. The couple invited a few close friends to a Muggle resort to celebrate over the weekend, but James had pulled Sirius aside to enlist his help on taking Lily out on the water for the evening to get away from the noise for awhile. Though he happily agreed, James had Peter tag along to help and keep Sirius in check, so to speak.

Sirius refrained from rolling his eyes at the question, not understanding what was so confusing to Peter about reserving a boat.

"A boat, Pete," Sirius repeated as they neared the boathouse. "Why do you keep asking?"

Peter shook his head. "Because I am pretty sure James called it a specific name. Not just a boat."

"Well, all I see are boats. I'm sure it won't be that difficult to figure out," Sirius assured, giving Peter's shoulder a pat.

"I hope you're right."

The man standing behind the counter offered a toothy smile at the pair as they entered. "Why hello there! What can I do for you two today?"

Sirius tapped his knuckles on the hard counter as he spoke. "l need to rent a boat for five-thirty tonight, please."

The man's smile widened just a bit more. "Sure thing! What were you looking for? A sailboat, party boat, speed boat—"

"A party boat sounds perfect!"

"Uh, no," Peter cut in, "Just a um… we only need one of your row boats, actually."

"A row boat, huh?"

Sirius huffed, sending a pointed look at his friend. "You don't think James and Lily would enjoy a party boat? It has the word party right in it, and last I checked anniversaries are a party of sorts."

"James specifically said a row boat of some kind, not a crazy Mug–motorboat," Peter reminded. "It's supposed to be simple, and peaceful, remember?"

The man listened to their debate for a moment before flagging their attention back to him. "I think I know what you are needing. A simple boat for a quiet occasion. Follow me!"

The two followed behind the man as he walked away. "Be careful, it can get a little slippery."

Stepping onto the docks, they passed the large motorized boats and made for another dock that branched out into a more secluded area of the lake.

"We have all our manual boats over here where they won't get banged up by the motorized ones," the man said turning to face them while waving a hand in the boats' direction. "We got pedal boats, kayaks, fishing boats, rafts, and canoes. There's a river that forms a ways down over there that is great for kayaking or river rafting, if that's your thing."

Sirius saw Peter perk up at the mention of the canoe like it sparked his memory of what they were there for and scanned over the various boats lined up beside him. Before he fixated and pointed out the one they needed, Sirius rubbed his chin in contemplation.

"You know, I think that they were wanting to go on the river, right Pete?"

"I don't think so?"

Sirius ignored Peter's question. "Let's take a kayak."

"Alright," said the man, pulling a pen and notepad from his pocket. "Two one person kayaks or a double?"

Sirius raised a brow. "Huh?"

"What my friend meant to ask was; are the canoes safe to be on the river as well?" Peter inquired, giving Sirius a hard nudge and a ' _I got this,'_ look.

"No it wasn't," Sirius stated. "Wait, what is the difference?"

The man looked between the two, seeming just as lost as they were now. "Difference between what?"

"A canoe and a kayak?"

Peter nudged his side harder, quietly wanting Sirius to shut up.

"Uh, well, as you can see the canoe over there is open, has multiple single-paddle oars, and can fit one to four people depending on weight. They're good for going out on quiet waters." The man pointed out the kayaks beside them. "Kayaks are enclosed at the top, with only the opening where you'd sit, and typically can only hold two people at a time. They're ideally used for sports like whitewater rafting or fast paced river racing. They have long, double-ended oars to steer with."

Peter seemed unsure at which to pick again and looked at Sirius for assistance. "Do you think he wanted the kayak? I don't think he mentioned the river, he said that it was supposed to be a quiet little boating over the water. White rafting sounds a bit intense."

"We also have rafts! They are great for river rafting," the man interrupted, to which Peter placed his hands over his face in frustration. "That sounds like what your friend seems to want, yeah?"

"Give us a moment?" Peter asked.

"Sure."

Peter grabbed Sirius' arm and pulled him away some to get out the man's earshot. "I didn't think there were so many choices," he muttered. "I thought they were all like the boats we rode on our first year. That was how James described the one he wanted."

Peter glanced around at the boats. "None of these look like them, and I am tired of playing this weird bargain game this guy is spinning."

"Muggles like to make everything complicated," Sirius said.

"Which one do you think Prongs will want, then?"

"I still think we should get the party boat," Sirius stated

"He said no motors," Peter snapped. "Ugh, why does he want to give Lily a boat ride anyway? Seems so dangerous."

"I don't know, Wormtail. I guess it's supposed to be all that romantic mushy stuff from Muggle movies, you know?"

Peter bit his lip. "I don't. Look, we got to pick one. James entrusted us with it, so we can't mess it up."

Sirius let out a loud sigh as he looked at the boats around them again. He then turned to the man with a confident smile.

"We'll take a raft!"

"Alright! Great! Let's go back and get the paperwork sorted out and–"

A large boat surged by suddenly, it's wake shifted the dock the three were staying on. Some water sloshed over the edge. While Peter was attempting to steady himself, he pushed a little too heavily on Sirius, causing him to slip on the fresh water puddle and fall head first into the slimy shallow lake waters. While Sirius was under, Peter quickly turned to the man.

"We want the canoe."

Peter was laughing his head off when Sirius resurfaced. The man quickly knelt down and offered him a hand, pulling him up on the docks.

"You alright?" the man asked.

"Yeah," Sirius said, refraining from shaking like a dog. "I'm good."

"I'll go get some towels and we can, uh, finish the paperwork." The man hastily headed back for the boathouse.

Sirius gave Peter a hard slap on the back. "Accidents happen, right Pete?"

"Sure," Peter replied, holding his side as he calmed himself down. "But I think you forgot something."

"What?"

Peter gave Sirius another quick push into the lake before making for dry land, half-laughing as he did so. "Your lunch!"

"You suck, Wormtail!" Sirius yelled, scrambling back onto the docks, seaweed dangling from his hair.

Peter felt a little bad for shoving one of his best friends into the lake, but for once he wanted to show James that he could do something right despite dealing with Sirius' shenanigans.

* * *

Writing Club

 **Character Appreciation** \- 1. (Era) Marauder (BONIS: [Character] Sirius Black)

 **Lizzy's Loft - Markiplier** \- 1. Alt: write about a good friend

 **Showtime -** 7\. Tevye's Dream - (word) Bargain

 **Count Your Buttons -** 1\. [Character] Sirius Black; 3. [Word] Fixated

 **Emy's Emporium - 15. Toffee apples** \- write about something that's harder than it looks

Autumn Event

 **Days of the Year - October 12th 2018 - Moment of Frustration Day:** Alt, write about someone fighting frustration.

 **Astronomy - December 15 2018 - Mercury at Greatest Western Elongation:** (emotion) Frustration

 **Princess Lessons:** 8\. Jasmine - [Trait] Stubborn

 **Around The Board:** 6\. Department of Mysteries: Write about trying to understand something

 **Marauder Map Madness:** 77\. [Action] Slipping and falling over; 100. [Character] Peter Pettigrew

 **Fantastic Beast:** 47\. Grindylow - (word) Lake

 **Where To Find Them:** 13\. Bahrain - (Prompt) Write a story set on, in or near water.

 **Insane House Challenge:** 515\. [Action] Falling

 **365 Days Challenge:** 118\. [Era] Marauder


	42. Mirror, Mirror (Draco)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **Written for The Houses Competition, Round 10, Year 3**

 **Written for Monthly Challenges for All Challenge 2018**

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Position:** Head Student

 **Category:** Drabble

 **Prompt:** [Theme] Reflection

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 484

 **Beta(s):**

* * *

Draco found himself in that bathroom more times than anywhere else anymore. Hiding from the ever seeing eyes of professors and suspicious peers, it became more stressful than he anticipated in the beginning plotting someone's murder. _Dumbledore's_ murder.

He sat on the floor, back pressed to the cold stone wall, head hanging low as he swallowed heavy gasps of damp, mouldy air. Cold sweat broke across his brow as he rode through the panic attack of what he witnessed and overheard earlier that morning.

' _Nothing is going right…'_

Draco tilted his head to look at the floor length mirror next to him. He took in the ashen look of his skin and the dark rings around his silver eyes. He looked as dead as the silvery ghost that soon appeared behind him.

Myrtle said nothing to him as Draco dug his hands through his hair, hiding his face with his arms as another wave of panic and nausea overwhelmed him. She hovered nearby, giving him the silent comfort he didn't know he needed as his mind raced.

' _This wasn't supposed to happen again…'_

Collateral damage wasn't something Draco thought he would be dealing with in his assassination plans, but after seeing the effects of the necklace, it really gave him a dose of reality. He thought he was more careful the second time, but it resulted in nearly killing another student. Weasley no less, making Potter even more suspicious of him.

The reflection Draco glanced at didn't show the person he knew. He didn't know this person looking back, instead it was the embodiment of the thing he wished to avoid; failure. Touching the mirror with his fingers, Draco pressed his forehead against it and closed his eyes, silently wishing he could be swallowed by his mirrored self.

"Please, tell me something."

"What is it?" Myrtle asked in her sobish, half-whispered voice.

Not intending to speak to her, he continued to speak to himself. "How can I stop my fall?"

Draco didn't hear Myrtles confused reply, instead he fought with the darkness that clouded his mind. The growing panic within of what will come with his failure made him realize that there was no longer room for it.

" _Do what you're told."_ His father would say, it was crucial now more than ever to cooperate, to obey, to succeed.

The one's he hurt do not matter, he tried to tell himself that they _do not matter._ They were in the way, that was it. So why did their injuries get to him like this?

Draco's hand pressed on the glass formed into a fist. His eyes sharpened as they opened and stared back, teeth clenched together as they held back a sob.

He knew what was needed to be done, he just needed to have the heart of stone the rest of them had. That was all...

' _So what's keeping me from moving forward?'_


	43. Out ofthe Cabinet tothe Past (Marauders)

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **Written for Monthly Challenges for All**

 **Term 10 - Assignment 1 - Demonology Task 2:** Write about someone undertaking a huge journey.

 **Representation:** The Marauders; Magic; Time Travel; Altering Events; Hopeful Fixes; Meddling With Time; Character Growth; Cause and Effect

 **Bonus Challenge(s):** Second Verse (Mouth of Babes; Tomorrow's Shade; Unwanted Advice; Casper's House; Creature Feature; Under the Bridge)

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 2,941

 **Beta(s):** Bailey

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So, I came up with this idea for a Quidditch League round that I unfortunately didn't get to write for due to time restraints, so I instead decided to use the notes I scribbled down for something else and incorporate the main prompt from QL anyway, which was [Movie] Hot Tub Time Machine, and of course time traveling. This was what I came up with. It's my first one so sorry it sucks! Restricted word counts suck.

As for a huge journey, I did my best with the WC, but it is intended to be both a physical journey (through time) as well as a symbolic one of making a selfless and conscious decision to meddle with time to try and make things better for other people.

* * *

 **Rated:** T

 **Genre:** General

 **Summary:** The Marauders are usually skilled hiders when it comes to dodging Filch. What they didn't expect was hiding a little too well in a cabinet that responded strangely to magic being cast inside it.

* * *

 **Out of the Cabinet & Into the Past**

 _December 1978_

The Marauders wanted to make their final year memorable for their fellow student body. Plans were orchestrated for key dates throughout the year, and the day before winter break was the first day to start their shenanigans.

The four boys slipped from the Great Hall after enjoying the Winter Feast of ham, cheesecake, and hot chocolate, leaving the rest of the school to eat while they got to work setting up their pranks. Wormtail scouted the corridors, making sure the ever-seeing eyes of Mrs. Norris were not going to catch them in the act. Unfortunately for them, the nosy feline came face-to-face with the disguised rat. She knew immediately that it was no ordinary rodent by the strange yelpy squeak Peter made. She snapped at him before he scurried under her legs to run down the corridor, squeaking loudly to warn his mates of the danger running on his heels.

Peter transformed back as soon as he turned the corner. Not stopping his fast jog as he ran past his friends while yelling, "She's coming! Hurry!"

The others quickly followed behind. James risked a glance as they took another corner, seeing the fluffy tail of the menacing cat not far behind.

"I don't remember that fleabag being so fast," he puffed out. "Take care of her, Padfoot!"

"You kidding me, Prongs?" Sirius scoffed. "Last time I tried that she nearly clawed me to death. Madam Pomfrey said she never saw scratch marks so deep before!"

Remus headed for a door he spotted and wrenched it open after using the unlocking charm. "In here! Quickly!"

The other three didn't think twice before piling into the room, promptly shutting and locking it back up before heading for the back of the classroom where a large cabinet stood against the wall. They opened it and shuffled into the empty and dark space inside and closed the door. Even through two doors they could hear the growl of Mrs. Norris that signaled her master.

"They're in there, my pretty?" the gravelly voice of Filch uttered. "Well done in cornering those brats."

The door raddled, but the lock held true for now.

"We're screwed," Sirius whispered.

" _Shh_!" James hissed under his breath.

A strange sound was heard far off in the empty abyss of the cabinet. It sounded like a woman's voice, muffled and distance, but it had everyone go quiet to listen to the other strange noises. They could no longer hear the clinging of keys or the jostling of a door handle.

"What is this thing we're in?" James whispered to no one in particular.

The cabinet door rattled suddenly. Peter jumped back, toppling over James as he stuttered out a locking spell at the same time Remus muttered a lighting charm to investigate.

A loud, magic-filled crackle was heard from the mixture of magical energy being released at the same time. The cabinet responded to it–as all magical furniture would–and the four felt the air shift strangely before a strong force knocked them out.

* * *

 _December 1973_

The four woke the following morning in the dead end corridor where the classroom was. James sat up first, yawning and stretching before realizing that he and his friends were not in their dorm room.

Then it all came back to him.

Jumping to his feet, he kicked Remus in the shin in the process as he looked around for the missing classroom. "Wha-what the…?"

Remus turned over from being kicked. "What the what, Prongs?" he snapped.

"Could you two keep quiet? My head is killing me," Sirius groaned.

"The classroom is gone!" James explained.

This prompted Remus and Sirius to shoot upright as realization hit them like a ton of bricks. Peter was strangely missing, but soon came trotting around the corner to witness the panic. "Oh, you guys are finally up."

"Unfortunately." Sirius rubbed his temples in an attempt to thwart the agonizing pounding in his head. "I'm never doing whatever we did last night ever again."

"Agreed." Remus stood up and brushed himself off. "Guess we should get ready to head home, eh?"

"Yes, lets."

"Uh, guys?" Peter piped up, looking around nervously. "I-uh, I don't think we are leaving–not today, anyway."

"What to do you mean?" James asked.

"See for yourself," he said, pulling out the _Daily Prophet_ from a pocket. "Look at the date."

The four went quiet as they saw the date: 1973.

"Oh, no…" Remus got up and started rubbing his hands on the stone wall nearby.

"What? What is it?" James stammered.

"You can't just say 'oh, no' and leave it at that, Moony!" Sirius added in.

"I knew that cabinet and room didn't seem right." Remus turned to look at his friends. "Something happened when Peter and I cast our spells at the same time. It must've been what sent us here."

"How? Why?" Sirius whispered.

"I don't know, I'm not a time traveling contraption expert!" Remus shouted. "We have to find the room again and undo this. Tampering with time is not something I want to get involved with."

"Right…" Peter muttered, biting at his nails. "But where is the classroom?"

"It's most likely one of those rooms that appear at a certain time," Sirius said.

"Or day," Remus added.

James snapped his fingers to get their attention. "I've got it. We'll just stay here and wait for it to show up."

Remus shook his head as he looked at the dim reflection on the window. "I don't think we can."

He gestured for the others to look at their youthful shocked and confused expressions staring back.

"Right, so we're embodying our _younger selves._ Perfect!" Sirius threw his arms in the air in frustration.

"Which means we have to reenact whatever we did during third year before the feast." Remus looked between the three, waiting for someone to speak up. "Does anyone remember?"

"You get into a fight with Snape after throwing a snowball at him after lunch, Sirius," Peter recalled. "Err, or was it you James?"

"It was both of us, naturally." Sirius smirked, remembering. "We ended up smashing his face into the ice at one point. His nose bled like crazy!"

"I wish I saw that," Peter muttered.

Remus rolled his eyes at the assault. "I believe I was returning books to the library, and you were… what were you doing, Peter?"

"I–uh…" Peter stuttered.

"Well, that gives us the afternoon, what about now? Or the evening? We have to make sure someone stays here to scout for that door!" James said, interrupting his friend.

"Ah, I remember the evening, Snivellus challenges you to a duel at midnight, James. And you royally kick his as—"

"Only because you interfered, Sirius," James retorted. "He was very much winning before that."

"Guys…" Peter squeaked.

"You two actually went!" Remus shouted. "I told you to just forget about it. You're lucky you didn't get caught."

"Uh, guys?"

"What is it, Peter?" James asked.

"I– I remember what happened with me. But before I tell you, cou–could you promise to try and help me out?" Peter looked at his friends, hopeful for a positive answer.

Remus shook his head slowly. "We can't tamper with the timeline, Peter. It could mess up our present!"

"But I get cornered by…" he trailed off, crestfallen.

Sirius sighed, moving over to Peter and placed an arm around him. "I remember now. You end up in the hospital wing after getting jumped by those Slytherins."

"And a Ravenclaw…" he whispered.

"I'll be there for you," Sirius continued. "Do you remember what time it was?"

"Shortly after lunch."

Remus ran his hands down his face in frustration. "You can't be there, it will mess with the timeline! You don't even find out about that until after it happens, Sirius!"

"For not knowing much about time travel, you sure seem to know how it works quite well, Moony," James scolded. "What would preventing Peter from getting jumped change?"

"I don't know!" he snapped back, glaring at his friends. "But nothing good comes from altering time."

"He's our friend, Remus. And you have nothing important going on," Sirius jabbed. "You should be there to help fend off those jerks."

The three looked at Remus, waiting for a reply. Remus looked away first and sighed. " _Fine._ Since you and James will be preoccupied, I'll make sure to be there with him when that happens. But nothing else can be changed, alright?"

Peter's face almost split open with happiness knowing that he wasn't going to be beaten to a pulp in a few hours time.

"Right, we should probably get on with the day. I'll try and do some research on the castle and it's workings before lunch so we can find that classroom and get back to the present," Remus reasoned.

"Sounds good, but I'm starving. Do you think past food will still taste okay?" James asked, following his friends to the Great Hall.

* * *

Tripping Snape into the snow didn't feel as good as James remembered it being. His taunts and laugh didn't hold as much arrogance as before, and watching as Sirius grabbed the Slytherin mid-trip to crush his face into the ice caused his stomach to twist just a bit at the sight. Blood dripped everywhere, staining the crisp white snow around him as Snape turned and snarled out insults that shouldn't have had James' smirk disappear.

Lily came running to Snape's aid right on time, and James felt his heart clench at the scathing remark shot his way as she walked passed him. Her green eyes cutting him like daggers before focusing back on her injured friend.

Sirius flug a snow-covered arm around him, still high from the adrenaline. "That was just as fun the second time, eh?"

James didn't answer, instead he watched the flaming red hair that billowed in the breeze, slowly making her way up to the castle with the ink spot that stained the otherwise beautiful scenery.

"I don't remember her being so beautiful," James half-whispered.

Sirius let out an annoyed huff. "That's because you didn't care before," he reasoned. "You're not going to tell me you feel sorry for the loser, are you?"

James gave a weak shrug before he started to follow the foot trail Lily took back to the castle. "I don't know. All of this time traveling stuff has had me wonder…"

"Dare I ask? Remus was adamant about not changing anything," Sirius reminded, wiping the snow and remnants of blood off his sleeve.

"Doesn't mean I can't wonder what it would be like if I noticed her sooner and straightened up. Do you think she'd be friendlier with me if I wasn't such an arse to Snape?"

"Look, mate, he ruined their relationship on his own, remember?" Sirius pointed out.

"Yes."

"So let time takes its course. You know she warms up to you eventually, anyway. Sparing Snivellus' feelings for her now won't do much." Sirius smirked then and looked to James.

He wasn't fond of what that look meant on his friend. "What?"

"Just think, if you were able to change your attitude toward him, Lily may end up just dating and marrying him instead."

James playfully mock punched his friends shoulder at the remark, chuckling and shaking his head at the thought. "That's just ridiculous."

"So is your train of thought."

"Fine, I'll drop it. Just had me curious, ya know?" James found himself pondering once more.

"Nope, I don't," Sirius said. "Let's go check on Remus and Peter."

Unfortunately, some things in time can't be altered, and instead of meeting with Peter after lunch, Remus remained in the library to scour the books on hidden rooms and their behaviors–the ones recorded, anyway. He ended up running into the other two outside the Great Hall.

"I learned more about that room, it pops up around eight—"

"Where's Peter?" Sirius cut in.

"Oh, crap," Remus muttered, immediately heading in the direction of the hospital wing. "I completely forgot."

"Of course you did, Mr. Has-To-Keep-The-Timeline-Straight," James scolded, following suit.

They entered the hospital wing just as Madam Pomfrey was dismissing Peter to tend to Snape's very broken nose behind a curtain. He glared at the three, but saved his more scathing look for Remus.

"You all suck," he hissed, rubbing a sore spot on his arm. "It hurt just as much as the first time, in case you all are wondering."

"Sorry," Remus said. "I really am, but we have a time vortex to catch. You alright?"

"I'm _fine,_ " Peter hissed, brushing past them.

They ate quickly at the Winter Feast before slipping out to head straight to the corridor where the door reappeared. Remus moved ahead to get to it before it somehow vanished again and pulled it open.

"It's the one. Come on Peter." Remus went and climbed into the cabinet with Peter following. "I think if we replicate what we did before, we will be fine."

"Okay," Peter said.

"Come on, James!" Sirius yelled over his shoulder.

The other two waited impatiently in the cabinet that transported them through time earlier–later?–that day. James knew that he should go back with the others, but something in the pit of his stomach told him that he should stay behind. He stopped at the threshold of the classroom and watched as Sirius held the cabinet door open for his friend that was not approaching.

He turned to face James after a moment. "Something wrong?"

"I…" James paused, looking everywhere but at Sirius.

"What, have you changed your mind now?"

James nodded, prompting a heavy sigh from his friend before he approached to give him a firm hug in farewell.

"I still think it will be pointless, mate," Sirius said after pulling away. "Maybe I should sta—"

Before he could finish, James shoved his friend into the cabinet and slammed it closed. If he wanted this plan to work properly, he had to do it alone.

* * *

 _July 1978_

It was a few weeks after graduation and nothing appeared out of the ordinary at first glance. James invited their entire class to a party held at the Potter's Estate, including Severus Snape. Though the few key moments he altered by staying in the past retained Severus' friendship with Lily, he and James never became anything close to friends. They tolerated each other for Lily's mutual friendship, but it was clear that Severus would forever resent James in some way even with the ruthless bullying being removed.

Perhaps it was because Lily still picked James after the truce was made. Maybe it was because he was always around whenever Lily invited Severus to something. It definitely had to be when James mock-proposed in his presence right after the graduation ceremony. James found the half-serious joke amusing, but he was sure that the other boy would've skinned him alive if there weren't so many witnesses around.

James would've forgotten Snape was even there if he wasn't being Lily's shadow, following her around in his broody silence or fetching refreshments he offered to get. James watched him slip through the crowd, remembering all of the rules he broke on time traveling and altering it in order to get where they were now. It wasn't the first time he wondered if it was even worth it in the end. He did it for Lily's sake, not Snape's. He just wanted to make sure.

"Let's ditch this joint," James whispered in Lily's ear before grabbing her hand and leading her to the back gardens.

The couple found a quiet place with a bench overlooking the lush summer flowers in the evening twilight. James needed to clear the doubt about his selfless decision he's endured.

"I see Snape is having a grand old time as usual," he said, looking over at Lily.

She gave a shrug. "You know he is always like that."

"Yeah." James paused for a long moment, hearing the faint noise of the party they left behind as he scoped the area.

"If things were somehow different, would you have, you know…" he made a waving gesture with his hand, unable to say the words out loud.

Lily processed the unfinished question before startling him with a laugh.

"I would never date Sev," Lily admitted, "I always saw him more as a brother more than anything. I am scared he doesn't see it that way and will stop being my friend if I ever told him this. After losing my sister for being who I am, I don't think I could handle losing him too, you know?"

James, still having that air of arrogance around him even though he called a truce with Severus years ago, scoffed. "He won't leave you, Lils."

"What makes you think so?"

"Because," James paused and ruffled his air sheepishly, "he still puts up with me and Sirius in order to be around you. That's commitment if I've ever saw it. If we can't scare him off, then you definitely won't."

"Mmm." Lily combed a hand through her hair in thought. "I thought I nearly lost you from that look he gave you at graduation during your mock proposal."

He laughed with her, slipping a hand in his pocket at the distraction. "Me too. That's why I thought I would do it in private this time."

James slid from the bench onto a knee in front of her. She gasped at the gesture as he held out the ring to her. Before he could utter out those four heart pounding words, he saw Snape over her shoulder standing in the doorway of the manor.

Sometimes even changing the past can't fix the future.

* * *

 **Winter Bingo:** C2 (Feast)

 **Yearly Event 2019**

 **Insane House Challenge (R):** 810 - [Trope] Time Travel

 **365 Day Prompts:** 40\. Impulse

 **Scavenger Hunt:** 77\. Write an AU you haven't written before (Time Travel!AU)

 **Winter Challenge**

 **Days of the Year - January 27th - Punch the Clock Day:** Write about time travel.

 **Seasonal Flower - Plum Blossom:** [Theme] New Start

 **Winter In Japan - Oden:** Write about people being faced with the same choice but making different decisions.

 **Winter Prompt:** [Word] Ice

 **Book Club**

 **Angel's Arcade - Superman - 2:** [Theme] Change

 **Amber's Attic - 15. Shazam:** Write about someone facing a moral dilemma.

 **Lo's Lowdown - 18. Penny:** [Theme] Regret

 **Film Festival:** 29\. [Word] Loser

 **Build a Bath Bomb**

4\. Bergamot Oil - (character) Sirius Black

35\. Frankincense Essential Oil - (character) James Potter


	44. Trainwreck to Love

_Written for:_

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **The Houses Competition, Year 4, Round 1**

 **Monthly Challenges for All**

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Position:** Head Student

 **Category:** Standard

 **Prompt:** [Event] Speed Dating

 **Representation:**

 **Bonus Challenges:**

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 1,188

* * *

The light made the room appear muted, but the upbeat music kept the atmosphere more lighthearted than romantic despite the cheesy Valentine's Day decorations for the grand event of the night – speed dating.

A paper Cupid was charmed to fly around the ceiling shooting arrows at pink and red heart targets. Colored candles were lit on all of the miniature tables placed strategically around a few larger ones, and confetti and glitter decorated the center of the tables where a vase filled with white, dark red, purple, and light red carnations.

Students mingled in the oversized classroom waiting to see what all the fuss was about. Rumors already spread that this Valentine's event was supposed to top Lockharts that was held a few years back, and this piqued interest.

A circular stage in the center of the room was darker than the rest of the room and lacked miniature tables that peppered the floorspace among the refreshment tables pressed against the walls.

The music grew quiet, prompting the room to quiet as well and focus on the stage that suddenly lit up with two very bright charmed lanterns.

"Welcome to the Hogwarts Valentine's Day Special Event! Where we guarantee you'll find that someone special at some point—"

"—Or if you are simply looking to have some fun, you've came to the right place!"

Fred and George were illuminated on the stage dressed in bright purple robes with matching top hats. Their wands were pointed at their throats to project their voices as they looked out over the small crowd.

"Tonight we're going to give back to others who need it most of all—"

"—By speeding your way to love!" the twins said in unison.

"The rules are quite simple," George continued, "let's start by having everyone find a seat. Two per table, don't be shy!"

"And don't think too hard about who is across from you," Fred added, smirking as he watched some people sit immediately while others were more selective. "It keeps things interesting."

The twins waited for everyone to settle in before they started on the rules.

"You'll have five minutes to get to know that lovely person across the table. When you hear the chime—" a noise was heard on queue, "—you all switch to the table to your right."

"Super simple, super fun!" Fred said. "You may even be lucky enough to have a round with one of us!"

"That could be good or bad, who really knows for sure," George added with a smirk. "If you fancy the person, make sure to give them a carnation from the vase."

"Let's hope you know your flowers, colors, and symbolisms. But if not, there's a convenient card for you to refer to."

"Shall we begin?"

The chime went off and the mutterings of several people were heard mixing with the ambiance of the jazzy background music. The twins started walking out around the edge of the stage to observe their guests.

"Looks like Finnigan is having an explosive time with Abbott." George pointed out.

"Yeah, well it looks like someone else is looking a little jealous about that," Fred said with a snicker. "If looks could kill.

"Ooh, Chang just gave Greengrass a whopping of a slap right across the face. Ouch for her—"

"—But great for us!"

Fred took the now vacant seat in front of Daphne while George caught up with Cho.

"You have to answer as many yes or no questions as you can before the chime," Fred said.

"I—"

The chime was heard and Fred gave a mischievous wink. "Looks like you are spared this round."

They returned to the stage and continued to comment on their observations. Occasionally their side game with whoever was abandoned left some covered in glitter or a paper arrow shot from Cupid overhead to offer extra luck for the next round.

"Malfoy seems to be using that silvertongue well, look at that flower collection!"

The chime sounded and everyone rotated to their right. "Seems like our dear sister is racking up quite the bouquet as well. Let's see how she fares with Malfoy, eh?"

"This'll be good. Rumor has it he fancies the redheads."

It wasn't long at all before Ginny removed herself from the table, tipping over the candle in the meantime.

"Thirty seconds, new record goes to Malfoy!"

They hopped down and pulled up a second chair in front of Draco who did not seem happy to see them. They corrected the candle and put out the fire on the tablecloth.

"I should have this thing shutdown."

"Now, now, don't let the bitter rejection get to you," George said, patting him on the shoulder.

"We're here to help—"

"Not like you really need it though. You have nearly two vases full of flowers."

"Lucky man, indeed."

"But a little boost won't hurt."

"Tell us, you and Neville seemed to hit it off quite nicely, wasn't expecting that at all," Fred said.

"He was blushing the entire time, and even you were getting a little rosey," George continued. "What's up with that?"

Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I don't have to explain."

The twins looked at each other. "Glitter bomb, then."

"No, Wait!" Draco said, throwing his hands across the table in an attempt to stop them. "Look, we were talking about water lilies. That's it."

"Interesting," the twins said together.

"Didn't take you for a flower expert."

"I'm not, hence why I was talking to someone who knows his stuff," Draco said, sneering.

"Who are these lovely lilies for?" Fred asked. "Surely they aren't for Longbottom, that's a pretty silly way to figure out a gift."

Draco stared at them, a slight blush betraying his otherwise stoic visage.

"We have one whole minute, Malfoy. We can do a lot in that minute," George stated. "It's no secret to us that you fancy the redheads based on the flowers you've offered."

Fred plucked two dark red carnations from the vase and handed one to George. "Here's the deal: you accept these from us and we simply walk away—"

"—Or we glitter bomb you." Fred finished.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I won't fall for this bluff."

"Thirty seconds," Fred said, pulling out a compacted ball made of color-appropriate glitter.

"Don't be shy. They're only flowers, Malfoy." George encouraged.

"That mean something very personal," Draco said, exasperated.

"Ten…"

"Glitter doesn't come out easy, and it will look great in your hair…" Fred snickered.

"Three…"

"Okay! Fine!"

Draco snatched the offending flowers and placed them in his collection just as the timer went off. He immediately got up and stormed away, keeping the flowers close to his face to hide his flustered expression and pinkened face.

The twins hopped back up to the stage, high-fiving each other as they turned out to the crowd.

"Thank you for participating in this lovely event. We hope you were successful in your quest for love!"

"The seeds have been planted, so don't fret over not finding the one right away. Enjoy your collection of beautiful flowers, have some cake, and feel free to stick around for some fun-filled dancing!"


	45. Let Them Burn (Harry-Luna-Blaise)

_Written for:_

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **The Houses Competition, Year 4, Round 4**

 **Monthly Challenges for All**

 **Term 10 - Assignment 6 - Biosciences Task 8:** Write about a pair with a large height difference.

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Position:** Head Student

 **Category:** Drabble

 **Restriction:** One character per house. (Blaise Zabini)

 **Prompt:** [Color] Burgundy

 **Representation:** Heroic Lunar Shadow; Blaise Zabini; Charity Representative; Being A Badass; Luna Lovegood; Makeup Artist; Supportive; Autistic; Harry Potter; Hairstylist; Supportive; Autistic; Charity Date Auction; Fundraiser; Nerves Suck

 **Bonus Challenges:** Endless Wonder; Odd Feathers; Pear-Shaped; White Dress; **(Demo)** Spinning Plates; Three's Company; Queen Bee; Machismo - Concern, Nervous; Unicorn; Tootsies.

 **Tertiary Bonus Challenge(s):** Terse, Thimble

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 950

 **Beta(s):** Gwen

* * *

 **Rated:** K+

 **Genre:** General

 **Summary:** Blaise wanted the charity auction to go well, he just needed a little bit of help.

* * *

Blaise wasn't intending to ask anything more from his partners aside from inviting them to a charity event, but as he sat down to extend the invitation over a cuppa, the troubles he faced that involved preparing for it suddenly flooded to the front of his mind. Losing an important asset to the cause created a nightmare finding someone else he could trust and get the work done.

"I need your help." The words slipped right out, and the subtle twitch of his eye signaled Luna that it wasn't what Blaise planned to say.

"Of course," she replied, "We're here for you always, Blaise."

"What do you need?" Harry asked, automatically reaching for his freehand resting on the table to offer contact comfort to his clearly distressed partner.

Blaise's physical relaxation at their response was the reassurance he needed to proceed. "I have volunteered for a charity auction that is being held in two days, and my makeup and hairdresser has decided to walk out on me for reasons unknown." He lightly bit at the corner of his lip, turning his teacup in hand. "It's a tradition my mother used to do, and I wish to continue it, but…"

With all the setbacks he faced, Blaise hadn't thought about what Luna or Harry would think about strangers bidding on him in order to win a dinner date as their reward, so offering some background on it was the least he could do now.

"It's a _dating_ auction—"

"And you volunteered to be auctioned for it," Luna finished.

"I don't have to—"

Harry squeezed his hand, pulling Blaise's attention to the striking green eyes he always got lost in. "You know Luna and I will support and trust you with anything you're comfortable participating in, as we know you'd do the same for us."

"And since you asked," Luna said, moving her chair closer to Blaise, "I'd be honored to do your makeup."

"And hair," Harry added in. "What did you have in mind?"

Blaise was sure the warmth in his chest wasn't from the sip of tea but from their positive response to the situation. It had him wondering why he worried about telling them in the first place.

* * *

The burgundy dress Blaise slipped on fit his form perfectly and contrasted vibrantly against his dark skin. Its thin straps that hugged his shoulder blades allowed him to show off the pied raven tattoo Luna gave him. He looked himself in the floor length mirror one last time before slipping into the copper stilettos beside him. It was time for hair and makeup.

He kept his outfit a secret from Luna and Harry for the sole purpose to see their breaths be taken away when he entered the room. He gave an elegant turn, showing off the burgundy dress as well as his masterful movement in the stilettos. The extra height from his heels had him tower over them.

"What do you think?"

"I think the red tips Harry insisted on adding to your wig will look marvelous with it," Luna said, getting up to walk around her tall partner. "I really like how it shows off your raven."

"I made sure I found a dress that did."

Harry was rendered speechless until Luna sat back down beside him, Blaise following to take his own seat in front of the vanity in-between them. This prompted Harry to snap to the present and reach for the mannequin head that wore the wig.

"You look beautiful," he said, placing the wig on Blaise's head.

The hairstyle chosen was short and spiky with the promised red tips Luna mentioned. Blaise also approved the color pallet she picked out that would further compliment his desired appearance.

* * *

Harry and Luna took a table for two as close to the stage as possible, eagerly awaiting for Blaise's debut and to admire their handiwork under the spotlight. Harry made the most of the downtime by scouting the room full of eager bidders. The shift in his seat had Luna hone in on his discomfort.

"There's a lot of men in here," Harry observed.

"Blaise said he could decline the winning bidder without reason," Luna reminded, squeezing his hand. "He knows we're here, too."

She flipped open the pamphlet that offered the charity details, wishing to distract Harry from his uneasiness. "Did you see which foundation Blaise was supporting?"

Harry hadn't, and before he could have a proper reaction seeing the charity was hosted by the war relief sub-program for orphaned children he launched, Blaise's name was announced. Their attention went to the stage, and out stepped Blaise in his floor-length burgundy gown. The slit up the side teased at his dark, long, toned legs the stilettos further accentuated, and the glitter that sparkled from his eyeshadow flashed brightly with every blink. He did a quick turn for the crowd before taking a seat, where he elegantly—and somewhat risquely—crossed one leg over his knee.

"He knows how to draw in the crowd," Luna said, captivated by his beauty.

Harry continued to hold Luna's hand as the bids flooded in. Blaise looked quite pleased with himself as he looked out at the audience, but he kept his secretive winks and air kisses directed at them. Once the bids teetered into the thousands, and Harry took notice that those who kept bidding were giving him bad vibes, he gave Luna a gentle nudge to have her confirm his discomfort was legitimate.

"I feel like burning some Galleons. You?" Harry asked, pulling his Gringotts cheques from his inner pocket that converted the amounts to Muggle pounds without hassle.

Luna smiled, looking back at the burgundy-clad beauty on the stage. "Let them burn."

* * *

 **Spring Bingo 2019:** 2B (Tea)

 **Insane House Challenge (R):** 232\. [Dialogue] You look beautiful.

 **365 Prompts:** 11\. Mirror

 **Scavenger Hunt - Writing:** 97\. Write a fic using a trope or cliche. (Charity Date Auction)


	46. Integration (Fred, Draco, Molly)

_Written for:_

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)

Monthly Challenges for All

Term 10 - Assignment 7 - Performing Arts Task 3: Write about something or someone out of place.

Auction 1.2: "I just want you to know if I don't make it back… you made me come here,"

Insane House Challenge (R): 226. [Dialogue] "Are you being serious?"

365 Prompts: 94. Visit

Word Count: (Per Google Docs) 4,636

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Because I am a strange one, I did a twin swap in this version. Or maybe I didn't? I like to think that Fred and George don't even know who is who after a time, so this is my own little twist for the story. George is with Percy here, and Fred is with Lee somewhere else in the castle, just for context sake.

There's a great fic wirrten by my friend, Ash, who took this headcanon and ran with it so well. I suggest you all go read it and get your heart ripped out. It's called: _I am George Weasley_ By VanillaAshes. Go on, read it!

* * *

 **Rated:** T.

 **Genre:** Humor, Family

 **Summary:** Fred thought it would be a great idea to take Draco to the Burrow to meet his mum. Innocent and harmless, right?

 **Warning:** Mentions of 2nd hand observations of anxiety.

* * *

 _13th of March, 2010_

Fred was surprised Draco had agreed to come with him to his childhood home—leaving Scorpius behind with George back at home—on a whim with little thought behind the suggestion. The blond hadn't had a day off since he had first stepped through their shop's door, little Scorpius in tow, all but asking for work over a year ago. The twins hadn't asked what happened in the pureblood's life that lead him to their doorstep, and they still never bothered to inquire about it.

It seemed like the papers were right about Draco and Astoria's unpleasant fallout, but the twins knew the information wasn't all true. With _The Daily Prophets_ sketchy history, it was a surprise anyone still read it to this day.

It didn't really matter, it wasn't any of their business, anyway. They took them in for the kid's sake, gave Draco a job and the spare room in their flat, and they had yet to let go of the family of two since. If Draco wanted them to know, he would tell them in his own time.

What they both knew was that Draco desperately needed a break. Working every waking hour while rearing a four-year-old took its toll on the single father who insisted on doing everything on his own. Fred knew the Burrow wasn't the first place Draco would've picked—it most likely wasn't on his top one hundred list, or even on his radar at all—but he and George had an agenda: have their mum meet Draco.

The twins had no idea how Draco's employment and residence with them hadn't been noticed by their family. It wasn't like they were purposely hiding either of them from anyone, it just wasn't something they made a big fuss over when they hired him. Some very well placed coincidences kept the blond in the back of the store whenever a family member came bursting in with their kin to notice him behind the counter.

They weren't even sure how the public rumors didn't make it back to their parents. Surely the hearsay of Diagon Alley hadn't learned to mind their business so soon? Regardless, they didn't really care if anyone found out or not. The twins were showing a kindness, offering a place for a kid and his dad to stay, giving Draco a job to help get them back on their feet—that is what should really matter.

The two apparated out in a field not far from the rickety gate and broken down fence that lined the Burrow's property and ward lines. Fred had immediately started for the house, allowing the familiarity to guide him. It took him a moment to realize that Draco wasn't following, so he stopped to look back at him.

"Coming, mate?"

Draco was taking in the scenery, Fred noted. The passive facade he managed to hold as he scanned the unkept property multiple times was rather amusing. He could see the concentration it took to not crack such a finely tuned mask and reveal what he was really thinking. Fred glanced around him briefly, looking over the worn out shed perched on the back side of the property, his mother's garden that was always overgrown with vegetables on one side, the chickens that pecked and scratched the dirt near their coop on the other, and of course the Burrow itself stood front and center in all its crooked and quirky-shaped glory.

He knew it wasn't much to look at, but it was still home.

"I think I've changed my mind," Draco finally answered, scrutinizing the structure that towered behind Fred.

Fred looked back at him and saw that Draco now seemed very out of place there. The preened appearance of the blond still held that faint echo of his origins; his stature, squared shoulders, and not a single hair out of place reflected countless years of exposure and grooming from a wealth Fred would never know himself. Some habits never truly die. Draco was definitely going to be the white elephant in the room, but they had to start somewhere.

Approaching Draco, Fred casually placed a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the faint tension he felt from it. "It'll be fine. My mum should be the only one around at this hour, and I'd hate to leave ya standing out here while I go and enjoy a nice big ham sandwich on home-baked bread."

The chuckle that followed didn't seem to ease Draco's mind. He was overanalyzing again, based on his ever-shifting gaze. This was what Fred needed to avoid. This restless pattern of Draco's when he was in situations he'd rather not be in was one he and his brother had picked up on the moment they hired him. It caused bouts of anxiety and uncertainty, but he needed to know that it was going to be okay.

Bringing Draco to the Burrow was supposed to be a little getaway for him. Not only for a change of scenery, but someplace that felt a little homey where he could hopefully relax. Fred was certain no one was home besides his mother, so running into anyone else was slim. Though Molly always had an open door policy, so anyone could show up at any given time, Fred realized. He was willing to risk it anyway. It would do Draco some good to have a bit of a social interaction outside of the shop.

An idea crept into Fred's mind then.

"I'll flip you for it."

This puzzled the blond enough to have him direct his attention over to Fred. ' _Good,'_ he thought, ' _keep him distracted.'_

"What?"

Fred pulled a galleon from his pocket. "I'll flip you for it. I win, we go in. You win, we can go somewhere else for lunch, if you like."

"Are you being serious?" Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes at the silly game of chance Fred offered.

He noticed that the blond was eying the pristine galleon he held out between them. He wouldn't know just by looking at it, but it was one that Draco had used to buy Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder with so many years ago.

A couple of long seconds ticked by before Draco nodded in agreement.

"Call it." Fred flipped it high in the air between them.

Draco caught it as it descended and looked into his brown eyes. The flutter Fred felt in his chest was intoxicating as he grew lost in the silver-grey pools watching him.

"Tails," Draco said before opening his hand to reveal the answer.

Fred gave a smirk as he took the coin from Draco's hand, having it linger a split second longer than he needed to. "Onwards it is, then."

"I just want you to know if I don't make it back… you made me come here," Draco hissed, hesitantly following the redhead inside.

Fred just gave him one of those famous cryptic smiles.

The two entered the Burrow into the sitting room where their senses were immediately welcomed with the sweet smell of freshly baked bread.

"Honey bread. Amazing stuff, that is," Fred said, smirking.

Draco took in a deep breath and Fred knew it was a method to help keep calm. The smell of bread will certainly help that.

"Allow me to break the ice, eh?"

Fred proceeded into the kitchen where he knew his mother would be, leaving Draco behind to gather his bearings.

"Hey Mum," he greeted as Molly turned around to face him from the oven.

"Ah. Fred! This is a surprise," she said, embracing her son. "Slow day at the store? Would you like some lunch, or are you just dropping by to pick up something?"

Based on the way Molly's expression changed when she looked behind Fred, he knew she had immediately spotted Draco idling by the entrance.

"Lunch sounds fantastic," he replied before giving a light shake of his head. "But I wanted to introduce you to our new employee for the shop, actually."

He grabbed her arm and gently turned her away from the kitchen's entrance so she'd quit gaping with shock from seeing a Malfoy in her house.

"Please be nice to him. He… means a lot to us."

Slight realization dawned on his mother at the half-whispered explanation, and she gave him a slow nod in understanding.

Fred turned and gestured for Draco to come in. Draco stalled for a moment before stiffly approaching, looking directly at Molly as he stopped right beside Fred and held out his right hand to the matriarch.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Weasley."

His voice was so crisp and unshaken despite how nervous Fred knew he was. Fred found the skill admirable, even if it was also one of Draco's faults at times.

"A lie is a very poor way to say hello," Molly responded without thinking.

"Mum," Fred said, tone borderlining a scold.

A second ticked by before she accepted Draco's hand, placing her other hand on top of it. She gave a stiff, but warm smile. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. Never in my many years did I expect to see you in my kitchen, but it does not excuse my rudeness. It's nice to officially meet you too, Draco."

Draco cleared his throat and tucked his hands into his pockets once his hand was released. "I understand. We share the same thought on that, at least."

Fred offered Draco a coy smile when he half-glared at him. Molly went back to busying herself with the oven where a lovely fragrance emitted from.

"I purposely brought you here on her breadmaking day," Fred explained as the pair watched her remove the honey-bread from the oven. "Sandwiches made from fresh bread is to die for."

He glanced at Draco who seemed perplexed by the idea. Fred wondered if he ever had a proper sandwich before that wasn't bite-sized.

Molly placed the bread on the counter before moving to the stove to stir something in a cooking pot and gave it a taste. Fred helped himself to a breadknife and a cooled loaf, placing it on a clean cutting board nearby. He then expertly started cutting even slices of it without hardly looking.

"Smells great, Mum. Supper?"

"Mmmhmm," she said, taking the towel tucked in her apron to dab at her face. "Stew in bread bowls."

Fred had sandwich fixings flying over his head from the icebox, grabbing at the cheese and meat that hovered around when he was ready for them, and then had them promptly sent right back to where they were. He occasionally looked over at Draco, who decided to make himself comfortable in one of the mismatched worn-in chairs at the table. Based on his strange expression, this was the first time he's witnessed people making food from scratch.

Molly and Fred soon took a seat. Fred slid into the chair beside Draco and sat the plates down in front of them. "Hope you brought your appetite."

Molly struck up conversation first, asking about the shop and how everything involving it went. Draco remained quiet for most of it, occasionally answering a couple questions with short answers while he wrapped his head around the idea that he had to use his hands to hold the sandwich. Fred was receiving mixed signals, he couldn't tell if Draco was simply being polite with his answers or if they were genuine. This was an obstacle both twins knew would be hard to cross. Was Draco truly comfortable living there and working for them? He was a difficult one to read, and it made it even more difficult to decipher when they hit a nerve with him at times.

"Thank you for making me lunch, dear," Molly said, gathering the plates as she stood. "I do quite appreciate it."

Fred cringed at the statement, looking to Draco with a silent gesture to motion that it was time to go. The signal was lost on the blond with a quirk of a confused brow.

"You know, since you're here, Fred. Would you do your dear old mother a generous favor?" Molly asked, turning from the sink to look back at Fred.

He immediately forced a smile, hoping it was something as mundane as cleaning up the kitchen. "Sure, Mum. What is it?"

"Well, I haven't had the chance to weed the garden lately, and now of course it's overrun with gnomes. I need to get out there and make a harvest soon, but I know those pesky things are going to be in the way and try to steal the crops if I try to do it now," Molly huffed out, turning to look out the window to her garden.

Fred flinched, and he could see from the corner of his eye that Draco looked quite confused and uncomfortable about the casual request.

"She is asking you to work?" Draco whispered.

Fred shrugged and got to his feet, making sure the sigh was heard. "Mum, I have a guest over. I'll be happy to come back over the weekend and bring George to help then."

"Oh, nonsense, it won't take that long, Fred," Molly countered, swatting the towel at him. "Besides, I wouldn't make George get on his hands and knees with his ver—" she paused, searching for the word, "—imbalance condition, you know that!"

Draco gently cleared his throat, having the two redheads look his way. The look in his eye when he glanced at Fred was cryptic before he focused on Molly. "Where is the washroom, Mrs. Weasley?"

"It's just up the first flight of stairs, first door on the left, Draco," she offered with a kind smile.

He nodded his dismissal and went to retreat when a light hand rested on his arm. Fred saw that brief wave of stiffness across his shoulders before it relaxed. "Please call me Molly, dear."

"Thank you, Molly," Draco said.

Fred watched him carefully head up the stairs, his own mind racing as to what Draco was thinking right now. Molly turned back to her son. "There's gloves on the porch. I'll fix you some squash juice while you're out."

Fred groaned and rolled his eyes, heading for the kitchen door. "You're not making Draco come out and help, are you?"

His mum scoffed. "Oh, Merlin no. I'm not that rude of a host."

"Please be nice, Mum. He… he doesn't know anything yet—about how we feel," Fred pleaded as he was being shoved out the door.

"Relax, son. This isn't my first walk around the park. I'm far too busy to make deep conversation, anyway," Molly promised, ushering him out. "Now those gnomes and weeds aren't going to be plucked themselves. I do appreciate it, dear."

Fred was feeling as nervous as Draco appeared once the door was securely shut. Grumbling, he grabbed the gloves and examined the garden. The dang thing was nearly spotless aside from a few stray weeds here and there, and there was no signs of gnomes or their nests anywhere.

This was not a part of the plan. That was already fulfilled: Introduce Draco to Molly. It was a success. Now their mother had her own agenda, and this was something Fred and George failed to anticipate.

Casting a few charms to quiet his movements, Fred crept around the corner and knelt under the kitchen window that his mother left wide open. He pulled an extendable ear from his pocket and, with great risk of getting caught, reached up and stuck it on the frame of the window where it camouflaged into the wood grain.

Fred listened to every sound the contraption picked up. Footsteps descended from the stairway. A wooden spoon scraped the edges of a pot, making its contents slosh around. Foot falls tapped against the creaky floorboards, and seconds later the sounds of fruit being expertly squeezed in the juicer was heard.

"Do you like squash juice?" his mom asked. Another piece of fruit was squeezed dry.

"Uh, I don't really know?"

It was easier to hear the tension in his voice than to see it on his person, Fred realized.

"Well, it's never too late to try new things."

More fruits were squished and Fred could smell their sweet smells in the air mixed with the bread and stew. "I do apologize for being so rude earlier. It's been a long time since the twins brought anyone home is all. They were quite taken with Lee, and I know he played a large part in helping build and running their shop all those years ago. Angelina was a lovely girl—"

' _No time for deep conversation my arse,'_ Fred thought. Some things will never fully heal, and losing Lee was just as devastating as when he thought George had died—twice.

When the wall blew up on George and Percy, Fred was with Lee fending off a pair of Snatchers somewhere else. One cast a nasty curse, and Lee shoved Fred out of the way, connecting with him instead. He questioned the act of foolish bravery up until recently when a moment of clarity had Fred realize that Lee lost his wand seconds beforehand from a disarming spell, rendering a blocking spell useless as a solution.

Angelina moved on to bigger and better things. She seemed quite happy with her life while she traveled with the Holyhead Harpies. They still kept in touch, and she always sent them postcards from her international travels, but she was nothing more than a great best friend to them after their sixth year.

Draco had remained quiet through the information dump his mother rambled through. Mostly about how much she despised the twins' store until finally coming to terms with their career path, like how she had to do with Bill and Charlie and their passions in life. Percy was the only one she managed to railroad into working at the ministry, but he didn't put up much of a fight about it like his brothers did, either.

"I heard that you have a son?"

Fred rolled his eyes. He had wondered when she was going to hedge on the papers smear articles about Draco and Astoria.

"Yes. His name is Scorpius, and is about four and a half years old now."

He sounded a tad more relaxed talking about Scorpius, but that didn't put Fred at ease. He wondered if he should interfere.

"Oh, a winter child. Got to watch out for them more, it seems. But it is still a lovely age. They're so inquisitive about everything around them. Of course my lot were quite fearless at that age, and a couple of the grandkids are now, too," his mum said with a chuckle. "We should arrange a playdate with him and the rest of the kids soon. I'm sure they'll love to interact with someone aside from another cousin."

"I'm sure Scorpius would like that," Draco politely said. Fred could only imagine what was going through his head about the request, though.

The talk revolved around Draco more as his mum prodded in order to get to know him better. Of course the common ground was found once Scorpius was mentioned. Molly could never resist talking about her grandchildren with anyone whose unlucky enough to be caught up in the conversation.

"You're a businessman, yes?" she prompted. "The _Prophet_ mentioned that you were working with the Department of Business Regulations?"

"In a way, I suppose," Draco said with hesitation. "I wasn't handling anything directly involved with the department. I worked behind a desk, doing whatever I was asked."

A slight scoff was heard to dismiss the raw honesty Draco had just dropped. Even Fred didn't know what he did before coming to them, so hearing him talk about it freely to his mother was shocking.

"I'm sure you do well with all that regardless. You'll help my boys do great things with their business now that you're taking care of them. They've talked about expanding for ages now, maybe they will finally get on with it."

"It's a possibility."

"Will you be staying for supper?"

"I am not sure—"

"Ah, well, there's always a spot at the table. I actually need to tend to the chickens, would you mind…"

Fred stopped listening at that point; instead he wanted to bury his face in the dirt at his feet from the lack of his mother's subtly. Hearing someone head for the front door, he shifted over so he could stand, brushed his legs off, and moved over to the garden. Better get it done and over with so he could bail Draco out before his mother had him dusting the rafters or something. Fred pulled up the few weeds in the carrot garden he could find and made a second survey over the fence line to make sure there were no gnomes lurking around before heading inside to clean up.

Draco wasn't anywhere to be found, and neither was his mother. Maybe she was giving him a house tour.

Fred brushed the thought aside, he'd look for them after he cleaned up and rummaged through his old room for some misplaced blueprints they needed back at the shop.

* * *

Draco descended the rickety stairs for the second time during his unexpected visit at the Burrow to a quiet ground floor. He had reluctantly helped Molly gather some eggs after she was finished with her juice-making, and he was now with her, making her daily rounds out on the property to feed the hens and goat. He took the opportunity to excuse himself back to the house to drop off the eggs and wash up again.

Animals were quite filthy, and he all but bathed in the small sink in an attempt to get the dirt off.

What he wasn't expecting was being in an unfamiliar house alone. Draco went to the kitchen and glanced out at the garden to see if Fred was there only to find a pristine garden with no one tending to it. He considered apparating out, but knew it would be quite inappropriate at this point if he did without saying goodbye. Some invisible force kept him from doing it when he first arrived earlier, and it seemed to be doing its work again now. Whatever the case, Draco was at his limit, and he needed to leave soon. Staying in a house that raised a large family was bound to be bad news for him if he overstayed his welcome and someone showed up. He was starting to miss Scorpius, anyway.

He heard a racket from upstairs, pulling him from his thoughts. It was a sound of someone recklessly taking the stairs two at a time, and Draco figured that it was Fred until—

"Mum! Did James leave his quidditch jersey here because—"

Draco stood frozen near the edge of the stairs, staring into the shocked and surprised face of Ginny Potter. Thankfully the intense awkwardness didn't last for more than a couple long seconds—not quite enough time for a hex to be set off at least. The interruption of a light snap Draco learned to recognize as Fred apparating broke the silence.

"Thank Merlin you found him for me, sis. I thought I lost him for good this time."

Fred approached Draco's side, pulling his attention away from Ginny for a moment when his shoulder was gently squeezed. He didn't know what to make of the statement or gesture.

Ginny quirked a brow, silently asking her brother why Draco was there.

"I thought maybe Mum would've liked to properly meet our new employee for the store. Nothing special," Fred explained. "But we were just leaving, actually. Business can't run itself."

"I see," Ginny said slowly. "Fairly new and interesting choice, hmm?"

Fred just shrugged.

Draco felt her intense gaze on him again, but he put on his best mask and attempted a half smile.

"Evening, Mrs. Potter. I'd say it's surprising to see you here but…"

"Wish I could say the same for you," she said.

Fred cleared his throat while gesturing for the door. "It's getting late, we better be getting back—"

A lot suddenly happened in a handful of seconds.

The Floo activated, the front door opened—as well as the kitchen side door—simultaneously. Draco felt the color drain from his face when he noticed the mantle clock showed that it was close to Molly's projected dinner time, and it seemed like everyone was showing up all at once to it.

Hermione stepped through the fireplace, brushing soot from her blouse while she cleared the space. "So sorry we're late, Molly. We—"

She went speechless when she noticed Draco.

Fred rubbed the back of his neck, and Draco felt his skin prick from all the sudden attention. He barely noticed that cryptic Weasley smirk coming from Ginny when Fred grabbed his arm in an attempt to get him out of the house.

"Granger," Draco found himself saying before looking over her shoulder at the fireplace that activated again.

Two little ones sprang out squealing loudly for Grandma Molly, not even taking notice of the awkward tension emitting from the adults.

"Hermione, you forgot your bookbag," Ron said with a grunt, hauling the large bag over his shoulder through the Floo. His face went as red as his hair when Draco locked eyes with him.

Molly was heard from behind Draco, attempting to speak over the toddlers now crowding her feet.

"What the bloody hell is _he_ doing here!"

Fred looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him as much as Draco did.

" _Ronald Weasley you watch your mouth!"_ Molly bellowed back. "And you do not speak to guests like that in _my house!_ "

Draco finally made it to the door when he noticed Weasley Senior shuffle into the sitting room, only seeming to be half curious about what was going on. "Ah, we have a guest? Who?"

It was the last thing Draco wanted him to know at this point.

"Got to run, Mum. Love you!" Fred said, barely leaving her a peck on the cheek.

"It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Weasley," Draco rushed out before fleeing the scene.

There were far too many Weasley's in the Burrow for him to handle right now. Fred knew it, too. He all but dragged him out the door by the arm in hopes that Draco's nerves wouldn't catch up and cause him to seize. They were almost to the wardlines before someone called for him.

"Hey, Malfoy!"

He heard a feminine voice shout. Draco turned out of habit to nearly be caught with what he presumed was a Bat Bogey Hex. Fred deflected the spell sent from his sister, the shield causing it to burst into a mess of bats before they disapparited.

They landed just outside the joke shops side entrance. Draco let out a breath he didn't know he was holding before sending a cruel looking glare towards Fred.

He knew by the physical reaction that it startled—and seemed to hurt?—Fred.

"Well that turned into quite a disaster," the redhead half-whispered.

Draco scoffed and half-rolled his eyes. There was a lot he wanted to say, but after seeing how hurt Fred appeared, he refrained from adding salt to a wound he didn't know he created.

"I'm going to check on Scorpius…"

Draco didn't know how he felt about anything right now. Angry? Upset? Scared? Worried? Why did Fred decide to take him to his childhood home of all places out of the blue and meet his mother?

It all blended into a mix of uncertain turmoil he wasn't sure how to handle. Right now he pushed it all aside, he wanted to see his son.

He needed to rethink his life—both of their lives. Staying with the twins was becoming too much.

* * *

 _Originally Written For:_

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)

Monthly Challenges for All

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 4,636


	47. With You (Molly, Xenophilius, Ginny)

_Written for:_

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition Season 7**

 **The Houses Competition, Year 4, Round 5**

 **Monthly Challenges for All**

 **Term 10 - Assignment 7 - Transfiguration Task 1:** Write about someone who can't speak.

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Position:** Year 3 (Stand-In)

 **Category:** Standard

 **Prompt:** [Clothing] Black Velvet Cloaks

 **Team:** Wigtown Wanderers

 **Position:** Keeper

 **Prompt:** Write about someone making the best of a bad situation.

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 1,618

 **Beta(s):** Gab, Jet

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I personally find Luna's mom's apocrypha name "Pandora" inappropriate due to the core nature in the name and the representation of Pandora's Box (Pandora releasing sickness, death and many other unspecified evils into the world) is pretty heavy stuff to carry such a name with, after all. I went ahead and tossed it out of the window and picked the name "Dione" instead. Derived from Dionysius, the Greek god of wine. Also From the sacred spring. So if you don't like that, sorrynotsorry.

* * *

 **Rated:** T

 **Genre:** Family, Hurt/Comfort

 **Summary:** Molly didn't think much about the little black book Ginny carried around, not even when a friend brought it to her attention. She wished she had.

* * *

 **With You**

Molly was enjoying the early winter afternoon with some baking, canning, and juicing her seasonal produce. She wanted to stock her pantry as much as possible before her and Arthur went to Egypt to visit Bill so nothing spoiled while they were gone. It was good to be as prepared as possible before her brood returned home for summer and wreaked havoc as well. It was always a challenge to feed four growing boys and a girl three times a day, but not as big a one as when all seven were under her roof at one point or another. She found herself a little lost on what to do without her darling Ginny around to help with chores or to tend to, but she knew that she'd adjust to the empty nest eventually.

A beautiful crested owl swooped in through the wide open window and landed on the back of a chair nearby. It sat there patiently, bobbing its head as it watched Molly tend to the oven. When she turned around, she jumped a little, pressing a hand against her chest in relief.

"Oh goodness, Bernard, you scared me!"

The owl slowly blinked at her before lifting his leg, revealing a note. She removed it and gave the crested owl a little pat on the head and offered him a homemade owl treat. Molly took a seat beside him and opened the letter.

 _Molly,_

 _I apologize for interrupting your winter preparations, and I do not wish to cause any alarm. I was hoping we could get together before your travels abroad and discuss something my dear Luna has brought to my attention in regards to Ginny. She seems a little concerned about her friend, is all._

 _Xenophilius Lovegood._

"Interesting note," Molly muttered, checking the time before going to the desk shoved in the corner to write a return letter to send Bernard back with. "I suppose I can take a break and catch up with a friend."

She tied the note to the bird's leg and sent it off before pulling out a pie from the oven. Once it cooled, she cut two slices of the mixed berry pie and packed them up. It didn't take long for Bernard to return with a reply saying that Xenophilius was available, so she bundled up in her mother's old black velvet cloak and headed outside to the Apparition point.

The Rook-like home hadn't changed much aside from the barely noticeable repair work on the kitchen side wall, but it didn't deter Molly from knocking on the door and waited, pulling the velvet cloak close.

Xenophilius opened the door and smiled broadly. "I'm glad you were able to make it, Molly. I hope I wasn't interrupting anything important."

"Oh, no. Just cooking and preparing the pantry is all." She stepped through the door at the invite and settled into a chair, leaving her cloak on to ward off the chill of the stone room. "I brought some mixed berry pie to have with tea. Hope you don't mind."

"Of course not. I'll get the kettle on."

Molly handed him the slices of pie and the two prepared their tea and got comfortable with minor chatter about the weather and their empty nests.

"So, you were saying that Luna was concerned about Ginny?" Molly asked, broaching the light conversation with the real reason why she was there.

Xenophilius sipped at his tea, appearing pensive about the question. "Oh, yes, I wished to bring it up when you asked me last week to care for your hens while you were gone, but it slipped my mind."

He set the tea cup down on the small end table beside him. Molly waited for him to continue.

"Does Ginny write you?"

"Of course," Molly replied quickly. "Not as much as I thought she would, but she sends a letter every couple weeks. She hasn't mentioned anything out of the norm, as far as I can recall."

Xenophilius nodded as she spoke. "Luna writes often, and lately she has mentioned some concerning things about Ginny and her behavior."

"Oh?"

Ginny and Luna were good friends. It was something both of them needed in their childhood—a female friend. A little girl could only tolerate her brothers for so long before she sought out someone she could better relate to.

"Lately she has mentioned that Ginny has been distant and somewhat mean. She's been calling my Moonbeam names and stopped spending time with her."

This surprised Molly. "This is a tad shocking, but I am sure there's an explanation for it, Xenophilius. Peer pressure does strange things to you, as you know. I'm sure she will revert back to spending time with Luna soon."

He didn't seem convinced. "Actually, she was more worried about how Ginny has been behaving with a black book she carries with her everywhere."

Molly filed through her memory, trying to recall a black book of her daughter's. "Oh, that. It's her new diary she got for her birthday. She tends to keep it on her even at home to make sure no one gets a hold of it. Her brothers are quite nosy after all."

Xenophilius hummed into his cup. Molly shivered, pulling the black cloak further over her shoulders. He was always a strange one to converse with, especially since Dione passed away, but they remained friends despite them drifting apart.

"I suppose it isn't anything to be too concerned over. I just worry that Luna will lose the only friend she's known, is all."

Molly got up and took her empty cup to the kitchen. "I will write her and make sure everything is alright. I'm sure it's a minor fluke, as you know school is a new environment and nerves can get the best of you."

Xenophilius walked her to the door. "I appreciate it, Molly. Thank you for coming. I hope you enjoy your trip, and I will make sure your hens are well tended to in your absence."

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Xenophilius. I hope things settle down between the girls soon. Give your daughter my best!" Molly waved and pulled the cloak around her as she stepped into the wintry afternoon.

* * *

Molly was numb, furious, and frightened. She sat on a bed in the Hospital Wing, cradling Ginny in her arms while she vaguely listened to the Headmaster, Deputy Headmistress, and Madam Pomfrey explain what happened. Ginny was silent the entire time, face white and eyes wide. She barely draped an arm around her mother's frame while she was being rocked in her lap. It was like she wasn't even there.

The Healer said that there shouldn't be any lasting effects to the possession, but Molly had her doubts about that. Possession wasn't something to take lightly, it was a kind of magic that virtually didn't exist in the modern wizarding world for good reason. The lack of knowledge about it wasn't going to help her little girl recover, and she wasn't going to simply brush it aside.

When Ginny was brought home, she went straight to her room and didn't come down for supper. Molly woke to her crying in the night, but when she went to console her, Ginny refused to talk. Hearing her daughter cry broke her heart and made her feel powerless on what to do.

The following morning, Molly wrote to her good friend, Amelia Bones, and asked if there was any old translated texts about possession and its side effects she could borrow. Within a few hours, a small parcel arrived.

 _Molly,_

 _I heard about the incident and am so sorry to hear that your daughter has to go through this. I scoured the Ministry library for whatever I could find on the subject, and hope that it will help you find some answers._

 _Amelia._

Ginny had stayed in her room and slept for almost two days by now, and Molly wouldn't tolerate her skipping another meal. She wasn't sure when Ginny last ate, but she knew it was before she came home. Molly gave the door a knock and listened to the silence.

"Ginny? It's Mum. Can I come in?"

Nothing. She let a few seconds pass before she went for the knob, only for it to open on its own accord. Ginny was sitting on her bed with her back to the door, the black velvet cloak Molly had wrapped her in to take her home pulled tightly over her shoulders. She showed no indication that she had opened the door herself. Molly entered, shutting the door behind her, and sat on her daughter's bed.

"Ginny, dear. I need you to come and eat," Molly explained. "Could you do that for me, sweetheart?"

Ginny turned her head to look at Molly, gripping the velvet cloak in front of her as she gave a light nod. Molly held out her hand, waiting for her to take it, before they both gently stood. The tears that welled in her eyes had her pull Ginny into a tight hug, combing her fingers through her daughter's fiery locks.

"We will get you through this, my darling. I am here for you, always."

She kissed the top of Ginny's head and held her a few seconds longer before letting her go. "I made you your favourite supper—chicken pot pie with mixed berry pie for dessert. Sound delicious, my little witch?"

Ginny's eyes lit up, and a small smile crept across her face. She nodded, and quietly followed her mother down the stairs. Molly didn't bother telling her to take off the black velvet cloak at the table, she was just happy to have Ginny sitting with them again.


	48. Language of Tacos (Tonks, Sirius)

_Written for:_

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)  
**

 **The Houses Competition, Year 4, Round 5**

 **Monthly Challenges for All**

Term 10 - Assignment 7 - Survival Skills Task 3: Write about trying to communicate with someone.

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Position:** Year 3 (Stand-In)

 **Category:** Drabble

 **Prompt:** [Food] Tacos

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 506

 **Beta(s):** Gab

* * *

 **Rated:** K

 **Genre:** Humor

 **Summary:** Tonks wanted to get to know Sirius, what better way to break the ice with some tacos?

* * *

"Wotcher," Tonks said, hopping onto the kitchen counter. "Question for you…"

Sirius turned away from the stove where he was boiling water for Remus' tea—the man refused to eat after a full moon, but he couldn't say no to a good cup of tea. Old habits die hard, Sirius supposed.

"Of course," he said. He didn't know Tonks very well, but the first time they'd met, her Auror training had overridden Dumbledore's promise that everything was under control when she tried to petrify him. She damn near would've too if Mad-Eye himself hadn't interfered in Sirius' favour. Bloody good aim, that witch had.

"I was wondering what your favourite food was," she said.

"My favourite food?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah," she said, pushing a lock of magenta hair out of her face and tucking it behind the ear where three cartilage piercings shone.

"I don't know," Sirius said. "Why are you asking?"

"Because nobody's rushing over to give Kreacher a Michelin Star, Molly's not around the house so much, and I… I feel bad," she said. "I mean, I know I wasn't part of the department when you were imprisoned…"

"You don't need to make it up to me," Sirius said sharply.

He didn't mean to interrupt her, he just didn't want to talk about this. Especially not with Tonks who, delightful as she was, was an Auror herself.

"It wasn't right, what they did. When you tell the story, I can spot at least seven conduct violations—and obviously I can't make it up to you, nobody can, but I know what they feed people in Azkaban," Tonks said. "It's a bloody terrible place, and the cuisine checks out. So I wanted to ask if there was anything you'd particularly like to eat that we can't make here."

Sirius smiled. It was very sweet of her. Very Hufflepuff.

"That's nice of you, but I stopped thinking about food a long time ago," Sirius said. "I… I can't really think of anything."

"Okay, well if not food, then just… things. Flavours. Yeah, adjectives—give me adjectives! I can work with that!"

She got so excited that her hair flared up and turned three shades lighter. He grinned, and tried to conjure up the strangest selection he could.

"Okay," he said. "Well… Crunchy. Meaty. Spicy. But fresh. Savoury. Juicy. Green. Chewy. Warm. Compact. Cheesy. Heavenly."

To his surprise, Tonks jumped off the counter—even sticking the landing. "Say no more!"

Twenty minutes later she was back at Headquarters, sopping wet because of the rain, but excitedly held up a paper bag.

"Tacos!" she cheered.

"Tacos?" Sirius asked.

"From the place Kingsley and I go to on our lunch breaks," Tonks said. "I got beef, chicken, tuna, a cauliflower, a tofu, and pork. Which do you want?"

He didn't know what to say.

"I told you I could work with adjectives," she said, hugging her bag of tacos to her chest. "And tacos are the perfect food, and you so _obviously_ described them to a T. Come on then; to the table."


	49. Fyre Lesson (Amycus)

_Written for:_

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy (Challenges & Assignments)  
**

 **Term 10 - Assignment 8 - Advanced Warding Task 5 - Incense:** Write about something burning

 **Auction:** 12.3 [Character] Amycus Carrow

 **Rating:** T

 **Genre:** General

 **Summary:** Amycus teaches his seventh year students the darker sides to Dark Magic.

 **Warning:** Crude descriptions of a sentient non-living creature suffering and dying.

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 584

* * *

Amycus Carrow marched down the narrow aisle between the desks that barely cleared his torso in height. Once he reached the front of the classroom, the stocky wizard turned swiftly to face the seventh year students sitting before him. The room was deathly quiet, knowing it was the best method to stay out of trouble, yet very few made an effort to hide their fear behind stoic masks as they gave their professor their undivided attention.

Amycus gave them a crooked grin for their obedience.

"For today's lesson on the Dark Arts, I will demonstrate one of my personal favourite spells," he said.

He shifted to stand beside the table, where a large glass bottle, a piece of cloth, and a cork was laid out. Amycus grabbed the cloth and bottle. "Unfortunately all fire requires a fuel source. Ever-Burning Cloth works quite well."

The cloth fell into the bottle with ease, Amycus then place the tip of his wand just inside of the bottle's neck. "Behold."

With an utter under his breath and quick movement and flick of his wand, fire slowly seeped from his wand and into the enchanted bottle. The flames twirled inside its cage a moment before Amycus ceased it's summoning and watched as a fiery snake formed inside. The creature let out a flaming hiss, circling the cloth before striking it. Had it been a real snake, the students would be witnessing the creature swallow the cloth, but instead its red-flamed body was fueled by it as it coiled around the life source.

The snake turned its flame-like head toward the exit then, sensing an escape. It hissed menacingly before striking at the bottle's neck. Amycus quickly corked the opening enough to contain the fiery beast, but enough to still allow air.

"Fiendfyre," he said, stroking the enchanted bottle delicately before looking back at his students. "It's a tricky spell to learn and control, yet it is a useful tool to unleash on the pathetic filth's homes and towns. Its cleansing strength is highly desirable. You will know if you are facing Fiendfyre by its ability to take the form of an animal like this one has."

Amycus pressed the cork further into the bottle, locking out all airflow to the near-molten snake inside. He knew the creature was attempting to generate more heat with the Ever-Burning Cloth in order to escape. The threatening hiss and attack from the snake was ineffective to the charmed items. "This fire is nearly impossible to distinguish once it gets ahold of a fuel source, though as it always needs a fuel source to continuously burn, if you cut off its air…"

The snake tried to attack the cork again, desperate to regain its airflow. The flames that licked over its back dulled, the embers that formed in its belly and around the cloth darkened to a deep red as the flames started to disperse from the coiling body. The students watched in silence as the sentient fire-snake slowly suffocated and simmered out before their eyes.

"As all fire lives and burns with those two energy sources, Fiendfyre behaves the same. Snuff out one, it will surely die out," Amycus explained, gesturing to the bottle with the slightly singed cloth only remaining behind.

The Slytherin students that sat in the front row were particularly interested in today's lesson, and two perked up and leaned forward with genuine interest. Amycus felt the corner of his lip twitch with delight.

"Now, who would like to practice first?"


	50. To Make the Change (Lucius-Narcissa)

_Written for:_

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **The Houses Competition, Year 4, Round 6**

 **Monthly Challenges for All**

 **Term 10 - Assignment 9 - Philosophy Task 2:** Write about a parent making a difficult decision about their children

 **House:** Hufflepuff

 **Position:** Head of House

 **Category:** Drabble

 **Prompt:** [Couple] Lucius Malfoy & Narcissa Malfoy/Black

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 949

 **Beta(s):** Gab, Crissie

 **Auction:** 19.1: [Dialogue] "Don't push it."

* * *

 **Rated:** T

 **Genre:** Family

 **Summary:** It took Lucius a long time to approve of his daughter-in-law, then he became a grandfather.

 **Warning:** Mentions of Xenophobia, Canon-Typical Pureblood Views

* * *

There were only a few times in Lucius' life he could shamelessly be proud of. The first was Narcissa and his wedding day. Though their marriage was arranged, they were amongst the very few purebloods who actually loved each other despite the betrothal. The couple made sure they expressed it with the tender and gentle care a family would need.

This lead to the second proudest day of his life—having Draco. Narcissa and Lucius were overjoyed to have such a beautiful and healthy son after facing so many complications before him, and they all were all so lucky for the war to end shortly after Draco's first birthday. It allowed them to raise their son without the fear and doubt that Lucius may not return home, and it gave them the clear conscience needed to not only nurture and rear a respectable heir, but to give Draco the attention and love Lucius and Narcissa rarely received as children themselves. To them, having a child was more than a duty—it was a gift.

After surviving another war, the crimes the family bore were repaid to the reformed wizarding world. The couple decided to keep to themselves and fade into the background, burying themselves with the dark history they helped manifest while watching their son rebuild his life from the damage made.

Lucius never liked the Greengrass family, and never bothered to think of them to be worthy of Draco until he started courting one of the daughters. His deep-rooted, narrow beliefs wouldn't be so easily swayed and unraveled despite his son's decision.

To him, Astoria and her family were one step above blood traitors and were modest at best in their wealth. They kept their heads down and made sure to stay away from politics on either side of the second war. Being foreigners from Greece didn't help their case in Lucius' book, either. The Greengrass family moved to the United Kingdom a few years after the first war ended, and he knew both had jobs as Unspeakables and had two daughters. The family disclosed early on in their children's relationship that they bore an ancient blood curse inflicted upon their ancestors, which only added more reason for Lucius to not approve the courtship.

Narcissa was quite taken with her new daughter-in-law and dotted on her with lavish shopping sprees and vacations to France. Lucius knew it helped her fill a void she carried with her they were never able to fulfill, but he couldn't erase the fact that he knew Draco could've done far better.

"He's marrying for love, Lucius," Narcissa reminded him. "Isn't that what we wanted for him? To not be tied down by our ideals and arrangements?"

"He still could have done better," Lucius all but snarled.

Narcissa scoffed at his reply. "We made a promise to not interfere, Lucius. Draco is happy, and we should be happy for him."

The two made sure the wedding for their son was perfect. They remained friendly with their new in-laws, congratulated the newlyweds, and held their tongues when it came to the career choices Draco and Astoria settled into after the honeymoon.

Lucius kept his rants locked behind closed doors while Narcissa tolerated his lack of approval about everything Draco did.

"I swear they are deliberately breaking every tradition set in place for the mere sake of it," he grumbled one evening during their bedtime rituals. "She's pursuing a career of all things. Draco has refused to take over the Malfoy Estates and title of Master. Next they are going to tell us they have no intentions of producing an heir. This is not how it is supposed to be, Cissa."

"They are still quite young," Narcissa said, eerily calm despite the irritable feeling growing in her chest. "We have plenty of years yet for things to settle, allow them to adjust to this new way our world works now, Lucius. Draco and Astoria are not in a position to walk against the crowd and get away with it anymore."

He held onto this heavy disapproval for several years until now. It was like all the hostility Lucius held against Astoria simmered out the day his grandson was born. He could gladly say it was the third best thing to ever happen to him and his family; not only for the new heir, but for Lucius' new outlook on the future and his family.

"You were right as always, my love," Lucius said as Narcissa climbed into bed with him. "Astoria isn't so bad after all."

Narcissa didn't hide the smug look on her face. "Of course I am, and I am glad you've finally warmed up to her. Now all you have to do is properly apologize for being so against them and their choices."

Lucius knew that he would have to do that sooner rather than later, holding onto the old ways only made him bitter and resentful. Narcissa made sure he knew that it was aging him both physically and mentally, and if he kept on this path of self destruction for much longer, he wouldn't see the age of sixty. He should've stopped trying to control Draco's from afar from the start, but now he realized he needed to let his son go in order to properly flourish and live the life he desired.

"We're having lunch with them tomorrow, I recommend doing it then," Narcissa prompted, placing her wand on the nightstand before pulling the blankets up.

"Don't push it," Lucius muttered.

It was going to take a little bit of time on his part to swallow his broken pride and allow the humbled life he resisted for so long to settle in.


	51. Written in the Stars (Draco-Astoria)

**Rated:** K

 **Genre:** Romance, Family

 **Summary:** Astoria knew the perfect way to tell Draco her surprise. The name was written in the stars.

* * *

"Just a little bit further, my love. I promise," Astoria assured Draco who trailed a couple meters behind her.

The hill wasn't that steep or rocky, and she insisted on walking over apparation due to the area being a very common muggle tour site. They were in Olympia, Greece, where the ruins of Zeus and Hera's temples remained. It was their final destination for their honeymoon, and also where they would be staying the longest due to it being Astoria's home country.

She knew that the top of the hill was a great spot to watch the sunset over the sea and wanted to share the beautiful experience with her husband who was less than thrilled to be taking the trail on foot through the slightly rocky terrain.

She held her hand out to Draco once he finally joined her at the top and settled down on the soft lightning blue blanket she laid out on the grass. He gladly collapsed onto it, reaching into Astoria's charmed handbag to fetch a cold beverage to share.

"Isn't it a gorgeous sight, love?" she asked, looking to the heavens.

Her dirty blond hair was gently blown away from her face, the fading sunlight made the specks of gold dance in her hazel eyes, and Draco couldn't help but admire her beauty over the sunset.

"It certainly is," Draco replied after a moment, handing her a glass filled with the wine they purchased earlier.

She accepted it but did not drink. Instead, she turned her attention to him, meeting his coy smile and sparkling silver-grey eyes.

"You're not even looking," Astoria scolded.

"That is because nothing compares to you," Draco admitted, causing her to blush.

"Just wait until the stars appear," she said, looking back at the darkening sky. "You can see every constellation of the season with ease up here."

"The ruins look very different from here as well," he added, looking back from where they were instead.

"I think I understand now," Draco continued, but trailing off, lost in thought.

"Understand what?" Astoria prompted, nudging Draco's arm as he sipped at his wine.

"Everything here is so beautiful, even the people, and I'm very blessed to have one choose me to spend their life with."

She smiled at this. Draco definitely had a way with words, and knew how to use them to send her falling for him all over again. She shifted closer to him, abandoning her glass on the ground beside her, and leaned into his arms that he now draped around her. The couple watched as the sun vanished and the stars appeared above.

"You can see Draco, just there," Astoria said, pointing out in front of them to trace out its design.

"The best constellation out there," he gloated, kissing her temple.

"Mmm, maybe. But I think I rather like Scorpius a little bit, too," she said, shifting some to point out the scorpion in the sky. "Or maybe Lesath, the star at the end of its tail. What do you think?" she asked, grabbing one of his hands in the meantime and placing it over her stomach.

Draco didn't seem to catch on to her subtly. He shrugged at her question, pulling her closer to him. "They seem nice enough, for a cluster of stars, anyway."

"You're so observant, but still can't see what is hidden in plain sight," Astoria teased, pressing her hand against his that rested on her stomach. "Especially since you're caressing him or her right now."

She looked at him then, a secretive smile playing her lips and dancing in her eyes. Draco shifted from confusion to realization then, and the breath that escaped him sent her heart fluttering.

"You're…"

"We are, my love."


	52. A Scrap of Dignity (Draco-Astoria)

_Written for:_

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

 **Monthly Challenges for All**

 **Term 10 - Assignment 9 - Wandlore Task 3:** Write about a duel.

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 4,104

* * *

 **Spell Guide**

 _Aquis Ab Intra_ \- Water from within (Drowning Curse)

 _Torpere - N_ umb (Numbing Hex)

 _Unnamed purple and green hexes -_ becomes acidic on contact. Capable of "melting" shield charm.

 **Rated:** T

 **Genre:** Hurt/Comfort

 **Summary:** Draco loved Astoria, but she was betrothed to another who tarnished her beauty. When he catches her betrothed in the act, Draco reacts accordingly to defend her honor.

 **Warnings:** Language, violence, physical abuse.

* * *

The Minister's Ball was well underway. It hadn't even been a year since the war ended and his parents—his mother especially—strived to suck up to Minister Shacklebolt to make up for it Hosting the Minister's end-of-the-year Ball was a success in her books, but that just meant everything had to be absolutely perfect. All of it mad Draco want to gag.

He spotted one of his friends, Theo, over at the bar and decided to at least interact with someone he wanted to speak to for a change.

"Just the git I was looking for," Draco teased. Grace

"Bugger off," Theo replied, holding up his empty tumbler for the bartender to replenish.

"What yeh drinking?" the bartender asked, looking at Draco.

"Whatever he is having."

Accepting the tumbler, the blond shot back a larger gulp than anticipated and nearly spat the amber liquid out. The unexpected cinnamon taste burned the back of his throat and caught him off guard. Rather than appear a complete priss about it, Draco finished swallowing with a cough.

"Damn, quite bold to throw it back like that so eagerly without knowing what it was," Theo observed, having grey eyes glare at him. "Bad day?"

"Don't get me started," The blond grumbled, taking a cautious second sip of the liquor. "Has a kick to it. What the hell am I drinking?"

Theo chuckled, taking a sip himself. "Better than firewhisky, right? Personal favourite of mine, especially around the holidays; cinnamon whisky."

"How suiting. Burns like hell."

The two clinked glasses, better prepared for the burn, Draco finished the drink. "How is Hogwarts treating you? They still holding contempt for Slytherin?"

Theo shook his head. "Not that I can tell. Everyone leaves us alone really. Teachers are the same. To be honest it's quite boring; I only re-attended to assure myself not to fail my NEWTs. You got lucky, mate."

"Normally I'd love to disagree with this prat, but he's right," Blaise chimed in, appearing beside Draco. "Fortunately you were the only smart one to not return, Malfoy."

Theo nodded in agreement with the dark-skinned wizard. Casually sipping at his whisky while eyeing the crowd around them.

"Seems like it," Draco replied.

Blaise noticed his colleagues wandering gaze. "Picking out the pretties from afar again, Theo?"

"Nah, but I am curious to see if that one enhanced beauty is back." He nudged Draco's arm to get the blond's attention. "You know that one that your father fanned at you last time? She around?"

"Miss Dahlquist and family declined the invitation. Thank Merlin," Draco explained, glancing at the crowd to reassure himself.

"Damn shame you scared her off," Theo huffed.

"Or she was barmy," Blaise cut in, "I watched Draco slink away as soon as he was able. No one would abandon an enchantress like that unless she was round the bend," he continued, defending his blond friend. "Besides, Theo here has been enjoying a piece of your girl in school already. Quite inappropriate to prowl for another one."

Theo hit Blaise in the arm, sending him a glare that said he'd hex him as soon as he was able. Draco felt a twinge of anger in his chest, but needed to rationalize who exactly they were speaking of. No one knew about relations with Astoria aside from her house elf, keeping the letters stowed away from prying hands, and assumed she would be doing the same except far better than himself. A dorm full of gossiping girls would be a nightmare to face.

"Excuse me?" he snapped back despite himself, giving Theo his full attention.

"Relax mate. I thought you two were over with. Or at least that's her claim" Theo quickly explained, prepared to ward off any attack from Draco. "Pans sounded quite sure you two broke up."

Blaise had an unchecked grin the entire time Theo stumbled over his words. He enjoyed stirring the cauldron when things got dull. Watching Draco's irritation dissipate was disappointing, but it brought up other questions for Blaise to throw around.

"Pansy?" Draco repeated, the heat on his skin cooled at the name.

Theo slowly lowered his arms when he was not going to get jumped, yet he still shot Blaise another dark look, to which was returned with an innocent shrug.

"Aye."

"Have at it. We ended things over summer. She wasn't keen on the idea of I not being back in school again," Draco lied, playing it off as casual as he could.

In reality he hadn't spoken or owled the witch since his coming of age party. It was apparent she was really upset about their conversation, and the two never officially broke up with one another. However, it couldn't have happened in any better setting, Draco decided.

Relieved, Theo finished off his glass and had the three wizards topped off. "Good to know. Spare a bloke next time on the getting miffed bit. I nearly had a heart attack."

"I'd hope you realize by now Blaise has a knack to get a rise out of people for pure amusement," Draco pointed out The liquor made quick work in loosening the blond up, and he welcomed the relaxation.

A snicker came from their mischievous friend. "I'm hardly that transparent.

"You have me curious though, Draco." The two wizards looked to Blaise, piquing their interest. "Who did you think I was talking about to get you heated over it if you were already over Parkinson?"

The blond smirked, hoping that minute reaction was going to go unnoticed, yet Blaise was to observant at times for his liking. As if on cue, grey eyes zeroed in on Astoria who was dancing with friends. A smile plastered on her face, dark sandy hair in a complicated updo, a baby blue and white dress adorned with gemstones glimmered in the light. The smirk broadened at the sight of the witch, and before the two wizards could eliminate the choice girls their friend was watching, the blond placed an empty tumbler down and excused himself.

He approached Astoria as the upbeat song came to an end and her friends dispersed for refreshments. Catching her hand before she could do the same, she turned to face him as he lightly kissed his hand.

"Evening, Miss Greengrass," Draco greeted, eyes reflecting his smile.

"Hey Draco!" Astoria replied, retrieving her hand from his to pull a tendril behind an ear.

A slower song started to echo across the room. Her face was pinkened from dancing, lighting up her hazel eyes with life. Draco took the opportunity that was presented to him. Offering her a hand, he made a half bow.

"May I have this dance?"

Her face turned another shade of pink, but smiled and gladly took it. Looking back to her friends who took to the sidelines, they eyed her questioningly as she was guided to the dance floor. The pair took the appropriate positions, and waited a beat before falling into step with the other couples who danced around them.

Draco pulled her a little closer than he should have, keeping a hand firmly on her lower back, she did not object or push away. They did not take their eyes off each other.

"You look beautiful," he whispered, not wanting to disturb the atmosphere that hung in the room now. The music was lovely, though the words fell on deaf ears. "Like some enchantress."

Astoria held in a snort, finding the complement more silly than flattering. "Did you pick that up from one of your dashing mates at the bar?"

It was Draco's turn to not burst into laughter, the liquor made it so easy to lose composure. "Unfortunately.

"You really are gorgeous," he reaffirmed, smiling. "If I didn't know any better I swear the moon herself dressed you."

The witch smiled, a blush appearing. "Thank you. You're so charming when you're drunk."

"Hardly drunk," he retorted.

"Relaxed, then."

A nod in agreement quieted the pair. Focusing back to their dance, the two silently took in one another. The past months they wrote almost daily; mostly about trivial things, and occasionally the two wandered into forbidden conversation. It was always a thrilling and terrifying topic to dabble in, especially when she would send him muggle books she recommended to read, and was stubborn enough to tell him that he'd just have to read it for himself to understand when he asked for her to summarize them instead.

Draco's lips tingled in reminder of their shared kiss so many months ago, and if there were not so many onlookers around them, he would have returned it now. Needing to remember that they were only friends in public, but the countless letters they exchanged in private made it so hard to remember this important information. Right now he was going to savor the time he had with her and this dance, hoping it didn't ever have to end.

She was betrothed to another, after all.

"Ahem." The daunting voice of Elijah tore Draco from his fantasies, halting the two on the spot. "Pardon my rudeness, if I may cut in?"

Grey eyes glowered at the dark-haired wizard. If Draco appeared protective, he did not realize it as he did not comply immediately to the request.

Astoria had speak in order to allow him to give her hand to him. "Of course."

Being as polite as he could, Draco stepped quietly away from the two, the reassuring look Astoria gave him did not bring comfort. A new song emitted, and Draco had no choice but to let her go. This did not mean he couldn't keep his eyes glued to them however, which is what he did when he returned to the bar. Blaise had busied himself with someone nearby, but Theo jumped on him immediately upon his return.

"Rotten luck, mate. I'd have hexed the freak into oblivion if I were you," Theo sympathised, offering the blond a lime green drink this time. Draco accepted it despite himself. "So, when did you two hit it off? Didn't think you were interested in the Greengrass'. Cheeky witches, those sisters. Surprised they're your type. You are aware she is betrothed to that git she is now with, right?"

He rambled on, the blond barely listening as he watched Elijah and Astoria's every move. He barely tasted the sour drink he guzzled down; instead the burn only seemed to fuel his anger. Another drink was finished before Theo grabbed his arm when he asked for another.

"Slow it down there, mate. It's not meant to be shot back like that," he cautioned. "Rowle fellow really gets to you that bad still?"

Draco shrugged his friend off, knowing that he was only wanting to help, nothing was going to until he knew that Astoria was away from Elijah. All his colleague's knew how much he detested the youngest Rowle, yet they never fully knew why. A bitter rivalry was all they wrote it off as, and it could have been as such early on. Distracted by Theo, he lost sight of the two in the crowd. This had him extremely on edge. Especially since Astoria confided in him that Elijah was the one who caused the bruising on her cheek at his coming-of-age party months ago.

"Where did they go?" he demanded.

"Who?" Theo asked, put off by how his friend was behaving.

"Shite."

The blond stormed off into the crowd, combing through it as quickly as possible. When he did not see them, Draco scanned the immediate gardens, concluding it was too cold to be outside. He was starting to get worried, the longer they were out of his sight; who knows what that insane wizard would do to Astoria.

Abandoning the ballroom, the blond scanned every crevice of each room on the ground floor. Nothing. In a panic, he wondered if they left. Though not out of the question, he knew both of their parents were still present. He climbed the stairs, hoping that he'd find them up there.

"You need to calm down, Elijah. It was just one dance with a friend," Astoria's voice echoed down the hall. Her normally gentle voice was raised and irritated. This prompted Draco to quickly investigate.

"Well you seemed to be quite comfortable and—dare I say?— _intimate_ to be dancing with someone who is only a _friend_ ," Elijah spat back, causing Draco to grit his teeth in agitation at the tone used.

"You're misinterpreting—"

"Don't lie!"

Draco turned the corner just as Elijah's palm made contact with Astoria's face. The loud slap it made echoed down the corridor, and before he knew it, his blood boiled beneath his skin. He approached them without hesitation, wand drawn. Elijah Rowle was not going to get away with the abuse this time.

"Hey!" Draco spat, startling Elijah enough that Astoria was able to break loose of his hold on her.

She immediately moved away from the younger wizard and got behind Draco. "You need to remember your manners!"

Sending a nonverbal hex Elijah's way as he spoke, the dark-haired boy stepped away from the wall and flourished his own wand quickly in front of him, effectively blocking. He had a wicked smile on his face and it glowed in his light green eyes.

"I strike a nerve eh, Malfoy?" he hissed, taking a couple steps back as Draco approached, slowing his enraged pace. Casting another spell the kids way, Elijah simply sidestepped it.

Spreading his arms causally away from him, loosely gripping his wand. "Missed me. Care to try again?"

Astoria stayed behind Draco, cupping her swelling cheek, tears stinging her eyes.

"Don't provoke him, Draco..." she muttered, but it had fallen on deaf ears as the blond stared down Elijah.

"You of all people should know to never strike a lady," the blond growled, gripping his wand even tighter as he contemplated his next line of attack. The younger boy just chuckled at this, gesturing to Astoria with his free hand.

"If you are referring to her as a lady, then you're gravely mistaken. All I see is a common whore standing behind you." Elijah flashed a devilish smirk toward Draco, taunting him to make a move.

Everything happened all too quickly. Elijah blocked both spells and dodged a third Draco sent his way before he managed to send one of his own jinx's' back at the blond. For only being sixteen, Elijah was well trained in dueling and nonverbal magic. Death Eater children were trained on the side, after all; Draco was just as good at that age.

Astoria scrambled toward the wall to avoid being hit by any rogue spells; frantically searching her person for her own wand to stop them to no avail.

"Elijah, stop it!" she yelled, hearing him shout a spell that could be deadly had it connected.

To her dismay, the two wizards were engaged in a violent duel in the deserted corridor of the manor, and she couldn't find her wand to help stop them. Oddly there were no photographs of Draco's ancestors in this hall; just landscapes, so she was unable to demand them to get help. Deciding that was the best course of action, the witch made her way down the corridor and away from them. The dark-haired wizard's eyes shifted to Astoria, and his next spell was aimed at her, throwing her hard into the wall.

"Where do you think you're going, witch?!" he hissed, distracted from her attempt to run.

" _Torpere_!" Draco shouted.

The yellow spell struck Elijah's left hand, numbing it on contact. The young wizard looked at Draco viciously, clearly not happy the spell connected. Moving the wand to his right hand, promptly pointing it to the blond.

"Your fight is with _me_ ," Draco hissed.

"Is that all you got, Malfoy? Petty hexes and jinxes? No heart in it at all." A mocking scoff emitted as Elijah shook his head. "I thought you cared about the slut?"

"Shut. Up!" Draco spat, throwing a nonverbal silencing charm at him, followed by a vibrant purple and lime green curse. Elijah blocked them, laughing as they violently ate away the barrier like acid.

"Oh, am I upsetting you?" Elijah asked mockingly. "Pretty pathetic defender, if you ask me," he added, dodging another spell while countering. " _Stupefy! Locomotor mortis_!"

He threw back to back at Draco, who blocked them but was sidetracked just enough he had not seen the yellow spell come at him until it struck, numbing the leg from the knee down. Draco collapsed, the sudden lack of feeling surprised him. He did not take his focus off Elijah, casting spells as fast as he could conjure them in his mind.

" _Diffindo,"_ Elijah sent back.

A fast, thin jet of bright red light came from his wand, shooting just past Draco's face. He felt a warm liquid flow down his cheek shortly after, followed by a burning sensation. Touching his cheek, the blond felt a small yet deep cut where the spell just missed—or he thought. Looking at the blood on his fingers, Draco shot Elijah a dark look, clenching his teeth as he attempted to stand on a still numb leg.

"See, Astoria?" Elijah scoffed, taking a few steps forward while gesturing to Draco. "He's all talk and no bite. Pathetic and weak. I really don't know what you see in him."

Elijah turned his attention to her who was glaring at him on the sidelines. A vicious smirk formed. "I suppose he probably could have cast a confundus charm on you so you'd give him the light of day if," the dark-haired wizard stopped about a meter from Draco, "I didn't already know you were a shameless harlot that enticed him to begin with."

Draco's head snapped up, eyes burning with outrage. Elijah caught the look as the blond thrust his wand arm forward. A split second hesitation stalled the incantation.

" _Cruc—_ "

" _Aquis Ab Intra_!" Elijah rattled out in a panic.

A pale blue light shot forward and hit Draco square in the chest right before he was able to cast the unforgivable. Draco on the spot, mouth partially open, eyes wide in shock. Astoria watched helplessly, wondering what spell was inflicted upon him. It was not a familiar incantation.

"Elijah, you bastard! What did you do?!" she shrieked, running over to Draco's side as he collapsed to the floor.

It felt like his lungs were on fire, clamping his mouth shut several times in an attempt swallow a breath to no avail. Draco's lungs ignited with pain as they slowly filled with water instead of air. Clawing at his throat, he fought to try and breathe only to cause more agony. He was drowning from water filling his lungs from within.

Elijah stood there in near shock watching the scene unfold in front of him, he almost experienced an unforgivable. He wasn't even going to resort to using them, but one little quarreling duel over a girl and Draco resulted to try a Cruciatus on him. He shook his head in disgust.

Snapping out of it, Elijah regained composure. Sauntering over to the pair, he knelt in front of the slowly fading Draco, a wild look in his eyes. Astoria's angry glare quickly changed to distraught pleading, tears filling her eyes as she looked to Elijah. The blond's ears started to ring from lack of oxygen, and his vision was blurring as they desperately tried to focus on her.

"Please stop it! You're killing him! Please reverse whatever curse you used," she cried, fighting the tears.

Draco rolled to his side as his body started to convulse, his gasps only occasionally letting in a hopeless breath, he could barely make out the two speaking while he fought to remain conscious. Seeing Elijah place a hand on Astoria's cheek he struck earlier, Draco really wanted to rip his arm clean off for touching her so gently.

"Do...n't to...ou...ch..." he rasped, water trickling from his mouth. His vision started to fade; he wasn't going to last much longer.

He was going to die by that wretched kid's hands.

Elijah laughed, ignoring Draco's ragged whispers. "My dear, Astoria," he said in a sickeningly sweet tone, "I merely defended myself. He attempted an unforgivable on me; I countered with a drowning curse. It is only fair."

Grabbing Draco's wand, Astoria dug it into her betrothed's throat, eyes filled with fire. "Reverse the spell or so help me!"

Elijah only chuckled. "You dare point a wand at me? Try me, I dare you."

She only dug it further into his throat, not backing down. He placed a hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"I think he did confund you," he tisked. "You are way too smart to try and get with some Death Eater scum that fancies the unforgivables," he drawled on, completely ignoring the dying Draco beside him. He wiped a tear from her cheek as they started to run freely. She fixed her gaze back to Draco.

"Please… stop this," she whispered.

Elijah rolled his eyes and waved his wand over Draco, muttering the counter curse with a growl. The blond immediately regurgitated a large amount of water from his mouth, an audible gasp and uncontrolled cough as he sucked in precious air. This only caused him to cough out more water. Rolling back to his side, the remains of the fluid expelling his lungs came up in the meantime. Draco nearly passed out then, shaken and exhausted from the terrifying experience. He forced himself to remain awake, taking careful breaths while his vision cleared.

Elijah leaned in close to the side of Astoria's face, taking his hand that was now regaining feeling to push sandy locks away from her ear

"You know what, Astoria?" he whispered sickeningly sweet, "I still _own_ you now."

He shoved her away from him before standing; she fell back onto her arms from the force. Dropping a wand at his feet, Astoria noticed it was hers and scrambled over to snatch it up, holding it to her chest while glaring at Elijah.

"Better think twice before jinxing me from behind," he warned before turning away from them. "I won't hesitate to recast that curse on both of you."

With that threat hanging in the air, Elijah walked away, disappearing around the corner. Astoria went back to Draco's side, helping him sit upright. He was very out of it and exhausted, feebly reaching for the hawthorn wand laying nearby. A groan escaped, and the blond wrapped an arm around his torso instead. Breathing hurt, yet the rage that lingered burned even more. The fool nearly took his life and was so nonchalant about the entire thing. This alone was what made Elijah so dangerous; and here he thought he'd witnessed the most vicious wizards and witches out there already; this kid was outright insane. A pupil Bellatrix would've been proud to get her hands on. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought.

"We need to get you to your room. You need to rest," Astoria suggested, being gentle in helping the blond to his feet. "I'll call a Healer and—"

"No," Draco rasped out, throat scorching with each word, "I can't let him get away with this."

"He almost killed you!" the witch all but shouted, annoyed at the response. "We need to tell someone, attempted murder is not something that can be overlooked."

He shook his head, dismissing the request. "What good would it do? That scum will be dismissed as harmless and I'd be made the liar."

Face twisted in pain, clutching at his chest, Draco took in a few heavy, pain stricken breaths. An uncontrolled shiver broke out across his body, he felt so cold. Clothes saturated with his expelled bile and water only made him shiver more.

Astoria showed concern, but was not happy that the entire situation was going to be swept under the rug. "You need to rest. Over exerting yourself will do you no good."

As if to reinforce the witch's words, Draco's body buckled under him. She was barely able to assist in supporting him as he fell against the wall. The overwhelming weakness and exhaustion washed over his body. Being without air for such a dangerous amount of time was taking its toll.

The blond swore the next time he saw Rowle, he would be the one writhing in pain on the ground. If only he did not hesitate to cast that curse... If only…

"Dizzy!" he heard Astoria yell, vision blacking out before he could stop it from consuming him.


	53. Nothing Like Family Drama at a Wedding

**Competition/Challenge Block:** **  
Written for/Stacked with:** Houses Competition (Term 4); Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Term 10); Monthly Challenges for All (Year 2) **  
House/Team:** Hufflepuff (Houses Competition); Ravenclaw (Hogwarts)  
 **Role/Position** : HoH (HC); Prefect _(Hogwarts)_  
 **HC Category:** 3 - Musical  
 **HC Prompt:** Mamma Mia  
 **Term (Assignment):** Term 10 - Assignment 10  
 **Subject (Task):** Beauty Therapy - Task 11 - Lip Stain: Write about someone/something that gets under someone's skin.  
 **Word Count:** 1,946 words (per Google Docs)  
 **Beta(s):** Gab, Jet

* * *

 **Rated:** T

 **Genre:** Drama, Family

 **Summary:** Astoria was getting married, and after discovering a secret of her mothers, she has doubts about her relation to her father.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I headcanon the Greengrass' to be Greek. Heavily inspired by _Mamma Mia._ For something that gets under someone's skin, I hoped I portrayed it to show it a couple different ways and gave it a proper portayal.

Thanks to my friend Magi for helping me get my competition info under control.

 **Language Notes:**

Selinofoto - Surname; means "Moonlight." Astoria's maternal grandfather's last name, her mother's maiden name.

Floros - Surname; means "Greenfinch."

Kóri - Daughter

Patéras - Father

* * *

 **Nothing Like Family Drama at a Wedding**

"Please, Patéras," Astoria pleaded, eyeing the reception room they were in. "It's Draco's wedding, too. He and his family can have _some_ say on the decorations and flowers."

Morpheus Greengrass scoffed. "It's not his or his family's concern. They need to stay out of the arrangements. They're only getting in the way and slowing things down."

"Father, you're being unreasonable," Astoria scolded.

"Your grandmother has been arranging weddings here for decades, and they're undermining everything!"

Astoria shook her head and let out an aggravated sigh. She was getting married to Draco Malfoy in three days at the Kalokairi Hotel her grandparents owned on the Greek island of Skopelos. She'd attended several family weddings here before and knew that her father's objections to the Malfoys' opinions on the decor weren't based on tradition. Her cousins' families always worked with her grandmother on their own respective setup and style. He simply didn't like his in-laws to-be, and he made sure to make that very clear.

"I know it isn't about the planning," Astoria said condescendingly.

"I know you can do better is all, my kóri," Morpheus said, calmer this time. "I want what is best for you, and I truly wish you'd reconsider that Malfoy boy..."

That was the last straw for Astoria. "If you really wanted what is best for me then you'd be happy for me and talk dirty about us behind our backs like the political man you are, Father!" she snarled, turning to leave before deciding to look back at Morpheus. "And you can forget walking me down the aisle! I'll find someone more appreciative who will do the honors!"

She stormed out of the reception room, tears in her eyes.

Astoria sought out her mother, feeling hurt and angry at her father's poor opinion. It was hard enough already to come to terms with her mortality, which stained the special event, but she overcame that and accepted it with Draco by her side knowing the price of their shared happiness. It was the type of gamble all females in the Selinofoto bloodline had to take when marrying; it was simply how their blood curse worked.

It was the epitome of a silver lining, a bittersweet ending, a Romeo and Juliet story.

Finding her mother's suite, Astoria pulled a handkerchief from her handbag to dab at her face, catching the stray tears from her cheeks, before knocking gently. "Mother?"

She knocked again before trying the handle. The door was oddly unlocked—she'd have to let the staff know the charms needed checking—and slowly peered in.

"Mother?"

Helen Greengrass was nowhere in the immediate vicinity, but Astoria entered the room and closed the door anyway, wishing for the privacy. Why not wait for her mother here as well? She checked the ensuite—no Mother—fixed her makeup, and then sat in the corner chair. Noticing a book laying on the end table, Astoria picked it up to return it to the bookshelf when a photograph partially slid out of it. She paused and looked at the name written on the photo and saw the tailend of her mother's name and another below it that wasn't anyone she recognized.

Opening to the page that stowed the picture, she got a good look at a much younger version of her mother, who looked at her and gave a wave before cuddling up to a young man that was definitely _not_ Morpheus. Below, in Greek, the photo bore the name of a beach, a date, and two names: Helen Greengrass née Selinofoto and Silas Floros.

Astoria fell back into the chair, engrossed in the diary entries that went with the photograph. There were several of them that spanned about a year, and the last entry she read mentioned that the two had to part ways, giving no reasoning. The following entry marked about a month later said that Helen was pregnant, but there was no other mentions of Silas, only of Astoria's father and her sister Daphne.

That wasn't right. The date coincided with her own gestation period… That was when it hit her. Her mother cheated on her father and conceived Astoria with this man.

Morpheus Greengrass was not her father.

She quickly wrote the man's name down on a scrap of parchment before putting the diary and photograph back on the end table where she'd found it and darted out of the room. This needed investigated.

* * *

"Why don't you just ask your mother?" Luna questioned, looking over the Greek letters that made up Silas' name.

Astoria paused in her pacing to laugh at the suggestion. "You know that would mean she'd have to either admit or deny that she was unfaithful, Luna. And I would have to explain how I found out."

"Exactly," Luna replied, "Your mother isn't the sort to do that. So I am sure you misinterpreted the entries. Women can have male friends and the relationship can remain platonic, you know. Maybe even a sibling?"

Astoria sat down next to Luna. "My mother is an only child, but I'm sure you're right. Yet after the horrible exchange between my father and I, I suppose a small part of me wishes he wasn't my real father, especially after finding this."

"He berated you about Draco again," Luna guessed.

"Of course. But this time he tried to justify his unreasonable attitude," Astoria said through gritted teeth, getting heated over the situation again. "I mean, if you are able to forgive Draco and what he did as a boy—while having every reason under the sun to not forgive—I would think that my own father could at least be happy for me and move on."

Luna placed a gentle hand on Astoria's back. "I will turn your father away on your orders. He will not ruin your special day."

Astoria gave a weak smile. "Thank you, I really appreciate it."

"Now, let's look into who this mystery man is, shall we?" Luna suggested, getting to her feet and holding out her hand to Astoria.

* * *

Astoria stood outside on the gravel sidewalk the following day, comparing the address Luna found attached to the name. She was lucky it was still on Skopelos island, especially since her wedding was tomorrow. Taking a deep breath, she went to the door of the modest home and knocked firmly and waited on the porch.

The man who answered looked like the one from the photograph, except much older and weathered. He had the same hazel eyes as her, and sandy-blond hair to match. Astoria didn't look much like Morpheus, who had darker brown hair and light brown eyes.

" _Hello,"_ she said in Greek. " _Are you Silas Floros?"_

" _I am,"_ he said, growing curious. " _May I help you?"_

" _You knew my mother once, I believe,"_ Astoria continued, pulling out the photograph she'd copied from the one in the diary. " _Helen Greengrass Selinofoto?"_

The look on the man's face changed immediately as he took the offered photo and looked at it. " _Where did you get this?"_

Astoria swallowed hard, mustering up the courage. " _I think I might be your daughter."_

Silas only laughed.

He invited her in to talk, and told her that Helen was in fact his half-sister—making him Astoria's uncle. They talked for some time, but he was vague as to what caused the fallout.

" _I joined the First Wizarding War in the United Kingdom. Something happened to me, the details are fuzzy, but Helen's letters stopped coming. She probably thought I died,"_ was all Silas revealed.

Though he wasn't her father, it was just as nice to know that she had a long-lost uncle to catch up with. As the hours escaped her, Astoria needed to get back to the hotel for final preparations.

" _I wish I had known you sooner,"_ she said as he escorted her to the door. " _It's a shame my mother lost contact with you."_

He gave a shrug. " _I never managed to find her, either. So it's both our faults."_

Chewing her lip nervously, Astoria stepped out onto the porch and turned to face Silas. " _I know we just met but, would you like to come to my wedding tomorrow and, uh, have the honor to walk me down the aisle?"_

The surprise on his face was replaced with a broad smile. " _You can count on me."_

* * *

The following day, Astoria was dressing and growing more nervous by the second for her big day. She was getting married to the love of her life, gambling with Fate, and revealing a long lost family member to the rest of the guests all in one fell swoop.

Everything was going so smoothly until an uproar was heard.

"What's going on?" She asked, heading for the door to listen.

"Why in Merlin's name is he here?" she heard her father bellow, followed by a cracking sound she was sure a spell.

Astoria went to investigate immediately. When she approached the foyer, she saw her father holding a wand over Silas, now on the floor with his hand raised in front of his face. A gash licked his arm and the side of his face—a whip spell.

"What are you doing?" she spat, pulling Morpheus' wand arm down. "Leave him alone!"

"He is not welcome on this property!"

"I invited him! He is Mother's family!"

The shock on her mother's face surprised Astoria. "How?"

"I came across his name in an old family album," Astoria lied.

Morpheus' face contorted into shocked anger. "Kóri, whatever this man has told you is false! He is nothing more than a lowly servant to You-Know-Who!"

Astoria shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. She caught the Azkaban serial code tattoo on Silas' neck.

"Was," she whispered before seeing Draco approach. She turned and fled the foyer before he arrived.

* * *

Astoria found a stone bench in the gardens overlooking the sandy beach and coastline of the neighboring island and sat down, uncaring about damaging her dress now. She couldn't stop the tears from falling as she watched the gentle waves lick the sands in front of her and the yachts lazily drifting across the silk-like waters in the distance.

Morpheus showed up minutes later, no words were exchanged as she scooted over and allowed him to sit by her. "I am dearly sorry, Astoria."

"Are you?" she hissed, "You've ruined everything."

He let out a dejected sigh.

"Silas is the reason why you don't like Draco, isn't it?" Astoria continued, connecting the dots. "He was on the wrong side of war and he paid the price for it."

"Silas and your mother were very close," he clarified. "She didn't know he existed for a long time, but they instantly connected when one of her cousins helped them find each other. Until, of course, he decided to join that insane man.

"After we moved to England," he continued, "your mother tried to find him after losing contact, but she learned that he had gone to Azkaban for his crimes. She had no idea he would be a turncoat and never bothered to reconnect after his sentence was paid."

"So you condemn him for it like you do with the Malfoys," Astoria said darkly. "That isn't fair."

"I only want to protect you and your mother from further harm," he reasoned. "But I ended up being the one to hurt you both in the end, and I am truly sorry."

Astoria stood up and faced her father. "You have to apologize to them. All of them. Not just me. Until then, I'm going to speak with Draco and postpone our wedding until all of this nonsense is resolved."

She turned and walked back to the hotel without another word.


	54. The Last Enemy

**Competition/Challenge Block:** **  
Written for/Stacked with:** Houses Competition (Term 4); Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Term 10); Monthly Challenges for All (Year 2) **  
House/Team:** Hufflepuff (Houses Competition); Ravenclaw (Hogwarts)  
 **Role/Position** : HoH (HC); Prefect (Hogwarts)  
 **HC Category:** 1 - AUs

 **HC Prompt:** Everyone Lives  
 **Term (Assignment):** Term 10 - Assignment 11  
 **Subject (Task):** Voodoo Magic - Task 11 - Brise: Write about something or someone that/who isn't what it/they seem.  
 **Word Count:** 1,873 words (per Google Docs)  
 **Beta(s):** Gab

* * *

 **Rated:** T

 **Genre:** Supernatural; Hurt/Comfort

 **Summary:** Harry accepted his fate when Voldemort confronted him at the Ministry. What he wasn't expecting was being Awakened to something beyond the world he knew. MoD!Harry. Everyone Lives!AU

* * *

 **The Last Enemy**

The pain was excruciating. Harry felt his body contort, his muscles stiffen, and his limbs jerk uncomfortably on the debris-ridden floor as the evil spirit of Voldemort bleed into his mind. He felt loss, so much loss and pain that he has faced in his very short life. The feeling of hopelessness, loneliness, fear, and depression was worse than facing the dementors two years ago.

Harry knew it wasn't true, his life wasn't worthless, he wasn't alone in it, and he knew many people who cared and loved him. His friends, their parents, the Order… they were his family. Even the ones he'd lost were his family, and he knew they loved him unconditionally. He loved them, too.

Then, he felt it, a ripping sensation deep in his chest and skull. It was violent, it burned and sent fire through his heart, his mind, his veins. It was like his soul was being ripped to shreds. His scar seared in pain, and it was becoming too much to bear.

Maybe dying wouldn't be so bad, especially if it meant preventing more people he loved and cared about from suffering and dying. If it stopped Voldemort from going on a manhunt for him, maybe, just maybe, he would spare the others.

He felt himself slip from this world then, the pain becoming too much, it was the last thing he remembered feeling aside from the love and hope he held onto for the living.

Eyes fluttering open once the pain stopped, Harry shielded them from the whiteness of the area he was now in. Three silhouettes stood nearby in the outline of Kings Cross and he quickly got to his feet, recognizing his parents and Sirius immediately.

"You're all…" He put a hand on his chest then, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt and the faintest thrum of his heart. "Am I dead?"

Sirius shook his head. "No."

"Only lost, sweetheart," Lily assured.

"It is not your time yet, son," James said.

Harry approached them, reaching his hand out to them only to feel nothing when his mother's hand touched his and went through it. He swallowed, fighting the tears.

"I don't know what I am supposed to do."

"You are so strong, and so brave," James said, brushing his invisible hand over Harry's hair.

"Voldemort no longer has a hold over you. You can go back and finish this once and for all knowing that everyone will be safe from his wrath," Lily informed, seeming to know more than he was lead to believe.

"I don't understand," Harry said, scanning the three. "Why can't I stay with you?"

"You are not meant to be on This Side, my boy," Sirius said. "Fate has other plans for you."

"It is time for you to go back, but know he cannot harm anyone anymore, not even you," Lily said, hovering her hand over his face before wrapping an arm around James.

"We will always be here for you," James said, placing a hand over his own heart.

"We love you so much, Harry."

Sirius stepped forward then and pressed his hand against Harry's chest. Unlike his parents spirits, he could feel his hand push against him, forcing him back. Harry couldn't stop himself from falling backward, and he closed his eyes and braced for an impact that didn't come.

Instead, a bony hand caught his arm and stopping his fall. Harry opened his eyes to see the very bright Kings Cross station melt into darkness. A dark cloaked figure now stood before him, one hand gripping his while the other wielded a scythe.

"I have been waiting for you, Master," the being said, releasing him in order to bow. "You have finally been Awakened."

"Master?" Harry couldn't see much of anything, but was able to faintly make out a bleaker version of Kings Cross in the shadows surrounding him. "Where am I? Who are you?"

"You are in what is known as the In-Between. I am your servant and spirit guide, those before you have called me the Reaper," the being said.

"And what am I?"

"You're the Master of Death."

Harry stared at the cloaked being in disbelief. What did this mean? He had heard the story of the three Hallows from Luna once, but he thought it was a simple kids' story. Luna, however, seemed to know something he didn't, but it seemed like everyone knew something he didn't about himself.

"There is an imbalance in the living world, and it is your responsibility to correct it, Master," The Reaper continued. "Otherwise both worlds will suffer. But first, you must retrieve your lost possessions."

He reached his skeletal hand out to Harry, and he immediately stepped back. "What are you doing?"

"I need to give you The Knowledge, Master, so you will Know what you must do."

Hesitant, Harry gave a nod and allowed the Reaper to place his hand on his head. The overwhelming feeling of memories from ancients past to the beginning of life itself flooded him. Before he knew it, he felt that pressure on his chest again, pushing him backwards to fall into the nothingness.

His body ached, tremors coursed through him as his eyes fluttered open and a groan escaped him when he tried to move. The pain was dulling away, but he felt lighter and more complete than he ever had before. Memories came flooding in, memories that were not his own. They were Tom Riddle's, the images of ancient objects flashed through his conscience: a cup, a locket, a ring, a crown, the journal, and a snake. They held significance to him somehow, and they were relatively well hidden in meaningful locations. Somehow Harry knew he had to find these items and cleanse them of the evil imbued in them.

Harry felt strange, powerful even. It was like he became more aware of his magic, more intune with it, and he liked it. Harry shifted upright, catching the attention of Remus who was at his side immediately, shortly followed by Dumbledore.

"Harry? Merlin, you're still alive thank the gods," he whispered, helping Harry roll onto his back. "Are you alright?"

"I feel… strange," Harry whispered, grabbing at his chest where his heart barely thrummed.

" _You must stop him, Harry,"_ a voice whispered in his head.

He nodded and looked at Remus. "I know what I have to do to stop him."

Before Remus could question this, Harry sent a silent disarming spell at Dumbledore. The Elder Wand flew from the man's hand and landed in Harry's before a black portal appeared below him and swallowed him right in front of Remus and Dumbledore.

* * *

Using the memories pulled from Voldemort's mind, Harry had found the four remaining artifacts that held fragments of Voldemort's soul in them. He stood on the cliffside in the middle of nowhere, the objects laid out before him. The Reaper was beside him, and both were standing with a foot in the living and one in the In-Between realms. Kneeling down, Harry pulled each piece of soul out and handed them to the Reaper where the pieces fused together. When he picked up the ring, he snapped the stone from it and held it in his palm.

"Found the last Hallow," Harry said, tucking it into his pocket.

"Good," the Reaper said, "But this soul is incomplete. Do you know where the rest are?"

"I will." Harry hovered a hand over the broken spirit resting in his assistant's hand.

His eyes went dark then, searching for Voldemort. He was easy to find with the Path of the Dead following his every move.

" _A Path,"_ the Reaper had explained, " _will mark those who have inflicted unneeded death on the world. They are to guide you."_

The vision of a large Manor was all Harry needed before he stepped through the portal that would place him in front of the man he sought. Voldemort's pet snake was draped over his shoulders as he sat in the throne-like chair placed at the center of the far wall. There was no one else in the room, and Harry made sure to keep it that way by sending the shadows under his command to bar the doors.

Voldemort was on his feet now, the snake hissing threateningly as it made its way down to the floor and toward him.

"Just who I was looking for," Harry said. With a swish of his new wand, the snake was pulled to him and pinned to the ground at his feet.

He knelt down and his hand turned black when he touched the snakes head, sinking into her head before pulling out the fragment of soul that lingered there. He handed it to the Reaper where it fused with the rest. Harry released the snake and the creature fled, free of its possessor.

"What is this? You are dead!" Voldemort hissed, finding his voice that was laced with shock. "What did you do to Nagini?"

"I freed her from you," he said simply, nodding in agreement. "And correction: I _am_ Death, all thanks to you for giving me that needed nudge to trigger my Awakening."

Voldemort looked completely outraged by this. "You cannot beat Death!"

"And neither can you."

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

The spell Voldemort cast ricocheted off Harry and right back at him. The green spell struck him square in the chest and he crumpled to the ground. The Reaper appeared at Voldemort's side, collecting the remains of the soul that lingered in the body and reunited it in the blackened spirit resting in his skeletal hand.

"I will take him where he belongs now, Master," he said. "All those who were destined to die under his hand have been spared. There will be no more death inflicted from him or his followers anymore."

He gave Harry a bow before being swallowed into the nothingness. Harry felt himself separate from his body then, his mission in Life complete. He watched as his own body fell to the ground. Wrapping himself in his cloak, Harry knew it was going to take some time to come to terms with his new life.

* * *

The Death Eaters and other followers of Voldemort were seized and captured within the year after he fell. Harry lurked in the shadows and watched his friends— _family—_ mourn him, watched them celebrate the victory of being freed from Voldemort's wrath, and watched them grow and have families of their own. Remus had a beautiful little boy, the Weasleys held a lovely wedding for Bill and Fleur, Minister Fudge was removed from office due to his negligence the moment Hermione came of age and caused waves in the Ministry. The ripples in the water eventually stretched out over Hogwarts, where negligence and mishandling from those in positions of power were no longer overlooked, either.

Harry watched the years pass on. Ginny became a professional Quidditch player with the Holyhead Harpies, Ron became an Auror, Hermione the Minister of Magic. Even Malfoy straightened up and had a respectable family of his own.

There was always going to be evil in the world, but Harry's sacrifice in life meant that it had a new Master to keep it at bay. The balance was restored.


	55. Always Obey

**Competition/Challenge Block:** **  
Written for/Stacked with:** Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Term 10); Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition (Season 7); Monthly Challenges for All (Year 2) **  
House/Team:** Ravenclaw (Hogwarts); Wigtown Wanderers (Quidditch League)  
 **Role/Position** : Prefect (Hogwarts); Keeper (QL)  
 **QL Prompt:** _Madness._ Write about a character descending into madness of any kind.  
 **Bingo [Space Address] (Prompt):** Summer; 1E (Lake)  
 **Word Count:** 1,380 words (per Google Docs)  
 **Beta(s):**

* * *

"Master Regulus said to destroy the locket and to leave him behind to die in that dark and evil lake," Kreacher muttered to himself shortly after appearing in the cellar of 12 Grimmauld Place. "He said to not return…"

The elf gripped at his ears while he fought against the need to rescue Regulus before it was too late. Those creatures had only began crawling from the lake waters, he could still…

' _Cannot disobey.'_

Kreacher shook his head and pulled the locket from his toga's pocket. There wasn't much time before Mistress Walburga knew he had returned. Questions would be asked as to where her beloved son would be, and he would have to deflect them and claim he had to escort Master Regulus to an undisclosed and warded location for his duties.

He tossed every piece of elfish and wizard-type magic he knew that could maim, damage, and destroy most things at the locket to no avail. The jewelry was protected by a very powerful and dark magic. Kreacher had never felt such strong enchantments like it before. He would have to think of something else.

" _Kreacher!"_

* * *

The metal was cold in his hand, but the fire that roared in the furnace nearby him would certainly do some damage to the piece of jewelry if it was left in there for long enough. He grabbed the fire iron and pulled open the cast iron door, exposing the flames and hot embers within. Wrapping the chain around the end of the pointed tip of the iron rod, he shoved it deep into the belly of the furnace and shook the chain free from the tool before pulling a white-hot log over the lockets new grave. He muttered to himself as he went to grab a couple fresh logs to toss in for good measure. It was supposed to be a cold night, he knew, and Mistress Walburga does not like the cold.

Closing up the freshly stoked fire, Kreacher let out a heavy breath. The deed was done, Master Regulus would be so proud. He should return and give the good news… but those creatures…

' _I left my master to die…'_

He gave another yank on his ears. "Master said to never return," he whispered to the cellar walls, "Not even the mistress can know."

A faint voice above yelled out his name, and the pull of the command had Kreacher come at Walburga's call almost immediately. Being punctual was appealing to her, and he must always please all of his masters and mistresses, even when they command him to not come to their rescue or demand his silence on their whereabouts.

Walburga wished for tea and biscuits with the evening _Prophet._

* * *

Cleaning the ashes from the furnace in the morning revealed the undamaged locket to Kreacher. The fear he felt inside the lake-filled cave came crashing back to him. Horrified, he removed the locket from the ash with a shaky hand, the feeling of failure washed over him as he eyed the piece of jewelry in his trembling fingers.

' _Failure! Failure! Failure!'_

Kreacher grabbed at an ear with his free hand and tugged at it, eyes locked onto the glistening face of the locket looking back. The fire did nothing to it.

"Master Regulus would be so disappointed," he muttered, "Must try harder to destroy the locket. Mistress Walburga suspects something is wrong, Master Regulus has not returned, but she cannot know his fate, no. Not from Kreacher."

He placed the locket on the ground and snapped his fingers. An old rusted anvil groaned from the depth of its resting place, knocking off the tools from it as it hovered from the corner over to who summoned it. "Magic did not work, not even the strongest I know. Fire did not melt it. This locket is cursed, it is the reason my master is gone."

Kreacher stepped back and moved the anvil to linger over the locket laying on the floor. With precise magic, he slammed the anvil down onto it with great force that he almost forgot to silence the space to contain the sound that emitted from it seconds prior. Lifting it up again, Kreacher peered down at the shimmering necklace and shuddered at the sight. The face of it was undamaged, not even a crack or scuff. It had popped it open just so, however, and Kreacher reached out to open it, hoping that a second attempt with it open would do the trick.

What he wasn't expecting was it to playout his worst nightmares once again before his very eyes.

* * *

It was Madam Bellatrix who came to deliver the terrible news about Master Regulus several weeks later. Mistress Walburga couldn't stand staying in the dark any longer and stirred up the Pureblood community about her missing son. Kreacher watched from the shadows, staining the new frame her portrait would be placed in any second now, muttering away while peering over his shoulder when the darkness nearby seemed to wisp in the air like the smoke that seeped from the locket. The touch ups were being made that very day, and Kreacher knew Mistress Walburga was not going to be in a good place soon. He closed the lid on the wood stain and discarded the cloth to slip into the kitchen to prepare tea, continuing to hear the half-whispers from the drawing room nearby.

" _It appears our dear Regulus got tangled with the wrong sort, Aunt Walburga,"_ Madam Bellatrix said. " _We haven't been able to trace his whereabouts, and I'm afraid that he has either been captured or is deceased."_

"If those filthy Mudbloods and Blood Traitors knew their place, my master would be here now, I would not have failed him or my mistress, who wouldn't be weeping now, and my family would be whole…no lakes or lockets to curse my masters fate. No."

Kreacher ceased his barely coherent mutterings as he entered the drawing room, offering tea and a handkerchief to his distraught mistress. The painter returned despite Walburga dampened mood, and allowed the finishing touches to be finally be made.

"Kreacher," Walburga finally said after several hours of silence since the painter departed, "Put the portrait up for me by the stairway in the foyer. I want all who enter to see and hear me first always."

He bowed low before snapping his fingers, allowing the portrait to hover besides him. "Yes, my mistress. I will not disappoint. It shall never be removed."

"Good." She gave a single pat on his head.

* * *

The house was empty and deathly quiet. Cobwebs danced in the windless foyer, on the banisters of the stairs, and in the crevices of untouched cabinets and trinkets. The furniture was draped with white sheets where it mattered, the bedroom doors were closed and never opened. Kreacher couldn't handle wandering into the rooms of his deceased and disgraced masters, he only tended to the master bedroom where Walburga once resided in during the last days of her life. She had fallen very ill, sick from grief and pneumonia. The winter was hard on her, and her mourning and search for her lost son dwindled her energy and her health.

He only had the portrait now, placed in the foyer by the stairs. She would speak kindly to Kreacher as he dusted her frame and polished the ornate carvings of its wood. Walburga didn't have to know he went into the kitchen to pull at his ears or to thump his head against the cabinet as he muttered about a crystal cave and a lake made of ink. She couldn't hear him whisper his failure of not destroying the locket that was buried in a drawer in the cellar, of how he was unable to answer his mistress' commands to search for Regulus and answer questions as to where he had to leave him behind to serve the Dark Lord.

The shadows laughed at him, wisping into that smoke that took shape of the horrors he lived through when he drank that awful potion and nearly died from drinking the water from the lake. He left Regulus to suffer the fate he avoided. He could have saved him, he should have saved him…

Why didn't he allow him to save him...


	56. If Only I Knew

**Competition/Challenge Block:** **  
Written for:** Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Term 11); Monthly Challenges for All (Year 2) **  
House/Team:** Ravenclaw (Hogwarts)  
 **Role/Position** : Prefect (Hogwarts)

 **Term (Assignment):** Term 11; Assignment 5  
 **Subject (Task):** Mythology (Task 1: Write about a deception revealed that majorly affects a character's life.)  
 **Word Count:** 1704 words (per Google Docs)

* * *

Hermione awoke feeling cold and struck with an intense pain that coursed through her being. Wherever she was it was pitch black and the floor was very hard. The threadbare blanket draped over here did nothing to stave off the cool air. She tried to move her right arm to prop herself up but let out a cry in pain and fell back onto the thin mat she realized was under her.

' _What happened?'_

In an attempt to ward off the pain surging from her arm, she recounted her recent memories. They broke into the Ministry of Magic, retrieved the locket. Ron had left them in a fit of anger and left Harry and her alone out in the wilderness. They jumped around for weeks, then they found the sword. Ron came back with Harry and the sword, a destroyed locket in hand. Something had gone wrong, they jumped right into a Snatcher ambush and…

Her head started to throb and her hands shook. Her body seemed to have recoiled at the attempt to remember what happened right after. They got Snatched and taken to… the Manor. The towering Manor. Hermione placed a hand on her forehead, the pain in her arm intensified. She was tortured by…

' _Bellatrix,'_ she thought with a wince.

She was asking for information about the sword… that it was supposed to be in her vault. And then… and then…

A sound startled Hermione out of her racing, hurting head. She looked around the darkness and saw a faint light seeping through a barred door not far from her. Soon the illuminated wand tip became more prominent and Hermione held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut. The light made her head throb even more. The creaking swing of the door opened and someone stepped in. The soles of their shoes tapped crisply on the stone—she assumed—floor. The door was resecured and the person was coming closer.

' _No… please,'_ her mind whispered.

Unable to hold it much longer, she slowly released her breath in shakey gasps. The person stopped then, Herminoe sensed them very close to her injured side. She wanted to scramble away to a far corner to get away but didn't, not allowing herself to give into the more primitive instincts her mind wished to fallback on. Deciding to flutter open her eyes, the light was brighter than she anticipated, and she raised her arm to block it, only to hiss from the pain in her right atm.

They knelt down now, and Hermione's eyes adjusted enough to make them out. It was Draco. He reached for her—she only then noticed the makeshift sling around her neck—and she pulled back in a jerking manner, the searing pain was doused with adrenaline.

"What did you do to deserve the punishment in tending to the Mudblood, Malfoy?" Hermione spat, eyes narrowing at him.

He said nothing, but she didn't miss him flinching at the venom in her words. Holding out two vials with neat writing on each, he held the light to them long enough for her to read them and see which was what before he placed them on the ground. Getting back to his full height, he abandoned the two small vials and a tray of rations, leaving her alone in the darkness. She waited to make sure he wasn't lingering in the shadows at the doorway before desperately fumbling for the vials. Pain reliever and dittany. Whatever happened, it was safe to say that her arm felt like it had been mauled and torn apart by a rabid animal.

She could only hope it wasn't the work of Greyback. Before ripping open the corks she paused, the rational side of her mind kicking in as to what these vials meant. They wanted her to heal enough and ensure her endurance to future interrogation and torture. She must've been in dire conditions to prompt this, but she wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of curing her only to cause further harm.

The shattering glass on the far wall was almost satisfying, but the flare up of pain in her arm had her lay back down under the blanket on the mat and cry herself back into unconsciousness.

* * *

Hermione didn't bother to acknowledge Draco on the second day. She kept her back turned to the door, lying as still as she could until he touched her arm. The gesture had her bolt to attention, glaring at him as he unbandaged the blood red rags from it. The question burned her throat, wanting to ask what had happened until she saw the swirls all down her arm.

Her silence was broke on the third day. She was desperate for information and wanted to verbalize her conclusions to make them feel more concrete with someone else present to give facial queues. Draco was good at keeping himself stoic when he wanted to, but she couldn't get over the fact that he was touching the bloodied bandages without even a hint of disgust or nasty remark. I was like he shut himself down.

"I was splinched in the escape…" Hermione muttered, giving a stern shake of her head while placing her free hand on her forehead.

How could she be so stupid? If only she were more aware of what was happening she could have pulled away from the person that grabbed her. Who was it? Did she even know?

"I was pulled away from Dobby's Apparation. That is what happened… I was pulled away by…"

Draco didn't reply, actively ignoring her rambling as he worked to rebandage her arm.

Her head was killing her, and she wished she could give in for the relief just once, but knew if she did once, she'd want to keep placing the pain at bay. She needed to distract herself, so maybe she could pry information out of him.

"Why are you doing this?"

The question seemed to have scared Draco away, for he finished the bandage hastily and promptly left.

Hermione needed to think and make sure she didn't suffer a concussion. They probably didn't even think about checking for one, but her head felt like it was beat against the stone walls surrounding her, and a cold chill settled in her that said there was one person who dwelled in the home above her that would delightfully do such a thing.

Draco was being uncomfortably quiet by the fourth day. It was very unlike him to be so silent. She recalled the strange day when he approached her in the library, blabbering on about whatever to hear himself talk, up until he asked her for help that is.

"They were books on repairing magical objects," she recalled to the darkness, pulling the blanket against her person. "He was wanting to mend a damaged jewelry box for extra credit and gift it to his mother for her birthday."

Saying it outloud in her own words made the entire scenario fishy. Why on earth would Draco repair something and then gift it to someone like his mother? That was beneath their haughty tastes and materialistic values. She never did consult Professor Flitwick to confirm Draco's claims on the project, but at the time Hermione wanted to give Draco the benefit of the doubt. She didn't think then that Draco had the nerve to join the Death Eaters. Though Harry was very insistent upon it, she wished she trusted him on it then.

Of course Draco baited her in accepting his request, she recalled. "He played me with my weakness and my strengths. I wanted to find those hard to find books, I wanted to prove myself to the prat." she laughed tonelessly. "How stupid can I get?"

It was only when she pondered on it further that she started to piece together more and more. Draco was seen examining that cabinet that Arthur said was a Vanishing Cabinet. Why would he be looking at that?

Hermione felt herself go cold, and it wasn't from the blood loss. "I… I helped him… get Death Eaters in."

It sounded completely unorthodox, but there was no other reason behind why he needed those tomes but to mend something dangerous, something he harnessed to penetrate the defenses of Hogwarts to commit sinister deeds. How did her meticulous attention to details miss the signs?

Her eyes had long since adjusted to her dark prison, and so she could see the broken vials in the back corner now. She isn't sure why Draco didn't notice the missing vials at the beginning, but she wasn't going to question it now. The noises heard in the distance prompted her to grab a shard and hid it under her mat.

Draco arrived again, the light pointed at her that had her raise her hand to block it out. She needed to confirm this, needed to know if she in fact played a terrible part in what happened during sixth year.

"You tricked me, didn't you?" Hermione hissed.

He said nothing, instead placing the tray down and appeared to shut down. She pressed on.

"The books on mending enchanted objects, they weren't for a school project at all. You took advantage of my need to be right and seek these tomes out for you because you didn't know how to yourself?"

Her chest tightened as she spoke. Remembering the shard of glass under her mat, she was tempted to use it and lash out at the git who knelt before her, but couldn't find herself to attack someone so violently like that. Just how like she was unable to comprehend the idea that she was used to help kill Dumbledore.

"You… you made me an asset to your crimes!" she snarled with such a ferocity she almost convinced herself to lash out at him. "You really would go so low as to do something like that… I see it now… How could you?!"

Hermione placed a hand over her forehead, panicking now. "Dear Merlin, how could I? How…"

The rest of her hysterics was a blur of pain and anguish. She wouldn't know how to live with herself now with the burden of this new knowledge… she wasn't sure how she could go on...


	57. If Only She Knew

**Competition/Challenge Block:** **  
Written for:** Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Term 11); Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition (Season 7); Monthly Challenges for All (Year 2) **  
House/Team:** Ravenclaw (Hogwarts); Wigtown Wanderers (Quidditch League)  
 **Role/Position** : Prefect (Hogwarts); Keeper (QL)  
 **QL Prompt:** Use the last line of your captains first QL fic this season as your first line.

Lost in Translation by Jetainia: "There was nothing more he could have wished for in that moment."  
 **Term (Assignment):** Term 11; Assignment 6  
 **Subject (Task):** Mundane Literature (Task 9: Write about someone keeping a dark secret.)  
 **Word Count:** 1708 words (per Google Docs)  
 **Beta(s):** Ciara, Angel

* * *

 **If Only She Knew**

There was nothing more he could have wished for in that moment but to take Granger and disappear somewhere safe and secluded until it was all over. The others escaped less than a day ago. Potter, Weasley, the goblin, Lovegood—all of them were gone. But somehow Draco's mother got a hold of Granger while they were in mid-Apparation and pulled her out of instead of getting sucked in herself. Bellatrix's dagger made it through the Apparation, unfortunately, and Draco knew both actions had traumatic results.

Someone on the other side got a dagger stuck to their person, and Granger—who was now in the cellar recovering—got so badly splinched Draco was surprised his mother managed to stop the bleeding and spare her life. Her arm looked as torn up and mangled as if a wild dog got a hold of it, and even with the dittany trying to seal some of the exterior wounds, they still had to heavily bandage it.

Draco entered the cellar now, wand trained on Granger, who appeared to be sleeping, while his other hand held a small tray of bread, plain rice, and water. The light from his wand barely showed him her figure as he approached, a chill snaking down his spine. The cellar was always so dark and cool. He felt content that she was still asleep and directed his attention at the reddening bandages on her right arm.

She moved then, startling him enough to take a step back. Her glare was menacing, and Draco was glad she had no wand in hand and was incapacitated enough to do any physical harm to him.

"What did you do to deserve the punishment in tending to the Mudblood, Malfoy?" Granger spat, eyes narrowing at him.

He was surprised she was awake enough to be so coherent but wasn't taken aback by her verbal attack. She had always despised him, and he despised her, but no matter how much he hated her and what she was, he never intended for it to get this far. Knowingly prepping her to be tortured again and then ultimately die made his stomach churn. The stint with the Basilisk was naive and stupid; he realized that now.

Even his clever plan to mess with her in sixth year before the stress got to him was bothering him. The joy and amusement he gained from outsmarting the brightest witch of their age was a childish act to feel better about himself. If only she knew what she had done for him then; she'd never forgive herself.

Draco dared not speak in fear of letting it slip as to why he was providing small vials of pain relief and dittany potions with her rations. He made sure she got a good look at the labels before placing them down on the tray and quickly leaving, not turning his back on her until the door was securely shut.

Draco let out a full breath and pressed his back against the bars. He could only hope that she didn't figure out their plan to make her recover just enough to endure more torture and anguish.

A few days passed like this. Draco entered the cellar once in the mid-afternoon to give Granger the same tray of rations and vials of potions without a word. She was silent during their second meeting, but it didn't last. The questions came in a calculated wave that she ultimately answered herself after a few minutes the following day. Draco was careful to not speak; he knew if he did, he'd be as good as dead. He did, however, find himself oddly lingering a little longer each day just to listen to her answer her own questions, but at the same time, he knew this was a dangerous threshold to tread.

Granger reluctantly watched him redress her arm after slathering a paste over it.

The mangled fleshy swirl was all too familiar for her to conclude what happened during her hazy consciousness when Harry came to the rescue.

"I was splinched in the escape…" Granger muttered, giving a stern shake of her head while placing her free hand on her forehead.

At first, it looked like she was cradling a headache, but Draco had seen her do this before in the library; she was scolding herself. When she redirected her questions toward him, he made sure to leave before he suffered a slip of the tongue.

"Say something! Please," she snapped on the fifth day, and Draco found himself swallowing hard at her insistence and odd politeness.

She was starting to yearn for conversation, wanting someone to talk to, even if it was him. The scene of him confronting her in the library one afternoon in sixth year where he had done the same came to mind. He talked aimlessly at her for a few minutes while Granger actively ignored him until he spoke to her directly. He needed help then, and he tricked and deceived her to get it. She needed help now, but he was in no safe position to to offer it.

Voldemort would want to get ahold of her soon, but Draco noticed that she hadn't been taking the potions based on how her arm was not healing with the help of dittany. She also appeared to wince when she moved, so her pain was not being managed, either. She figured it out early, and he was sure he would find the shattered vials off in the corner somewhere.

"Speaking is dangerous," Draco finally half-whispered.

"Don't you trust yourself?"

"You don't," he deadpanned, and her expression changed at that comment.

He tilted his head slightly, nodding it to the furthest dark corner. "I know you've been discarding the potions. They aren't poisoned."

Draco watched as her expression was blank for a moment. She was thinking. If she wasn't careful, she'd be cutting her death sentence too close for his own comfort. He had a plan, but it had to be done extremely carefully.

"I know what you are trying to do and it won't work," Granger stated rather confidently. "You can take me to him whenever you wish. I don't fear death."

The harboured guilt reared its ugly head as Draco promptly left. If only she knew what was in store for her. If only she knew what secrets he was keeping from her. She wouldn't want to seek conversation if she fully understood her involvement in finding those books on repairing magically built objects.

Draco lasted seven days.

"He is going to get the information that he desires out of you regardless of how much you resist," Draco said bluntly after giving her the rations and potions. "Might as well take these potions to keep yourself from suffering for as long as you can."

Granger eyed the vials apprehensively, and Draco had to refrain from rolling his eyes at her doubt and suspicions of poison. She sucked in a breath and accepted the tray. "You said that I shouldn't trust you."

"You shouldn't," he confirmed. "I have deceived you before and you never realized it."

Her eyes narrowed, appearing to file through her memories to recall the unpleasant moments exchanged between them. "What are you talking about?"

Draco got to his feet, knowing he had stayed too long. "Nothing. I just hope that you pay better attention this time."

He left without another word, knowing that he needed to keep this plan of his out of the front of his mind as best as he could in order to protect himself and his family. And to protect Granger. He needed to get her out of there, but Draco knew the intensity of Voldemort's Legilimens can break through his own Occlumency. He really hoped she was competent enough to follow a set of heavily coded instructions.

Fooling Granger in sixth year to help him obtain the books he needed to mend the vanishing cabinet was a little too easy, Draco decided. It left him wondering why she even bothered doing it. What motive did she have behind helping someone she despised and her best friends were very suspicious of? Was it because he claimed it was for his mother? Was it because he appeared to have a caring side? What did she see to agree in his bizarre request?

The urge to tell her the truth about that day nagged at the back of his head. It would be a useful tool to help prep her for Voldemort, break her spirit and plague her with guilt that she played a hand in Dumbledore's demise. If she had never found those books for him, he'd have been dead in the water from the beginning.

Thankfully for him, he didn't have to say a single word to Granger for her to finally figure it out. She asked her questions and worked through them herself as she processed the chain of events.

"H-ow could you?" she snarled, throwing the tray at him he deflected magically. "You really do live up to what Harry and Ron say you are! You rabid _monster!_ How could you—ho-how could I?"

She covered her mouth as the shock settled in. "You… you made me an asset and I didn't even…"

The scream that she released had Draco back out of the cellar and secure it firmly before anything drastically happened. The magical energy within her was radiating with anger, and he knew that she was more than capable of harnessing it if she really wanted to. He needed his mother; she could steer Granger from this fit of rage. He also needed to get her out of there; the guilt-driven need to somehow correct this mistake would eat him alive if he didn't act on it.

Draco silently wished she didn't know, had never found out the truth. It made his plan of her escape even trickier now. There was no way Granger would consider trusting him. If she allowed her doubt and apprehension take over when she found the wand laying within arms reach on the other side of the cellar door, she would be as good as dead—as well as any others she tried to protect.

He could only hope she would still cooperate. If only she knew...


End file.
